


Galdin Queer

by Besin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU - NO ONE DIES, AU - No Powers, AU - no war, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Drag Queens, Flamboyant Ignis, Friendship, Genderqueer Characters, M/M, Oral Sex, Queer Characters, Queer Themes, Sex Toys, Underage Drinking, chubby prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Besin/pseuds/Besin
Summary: When Noctis and I first met - properly - we were ten. We were friends pretty much from that moment on. Now that we're fourteen, I think I'm ready to tell him that I'm bisexual. And... Wow, he's taking this really well? What the heck? Is he-Why is he talking about support groups?What started as an excuse to put Ignis in rainbow suspenders and body glitter with a cocktail in his hand quickly spiraled into a nostalgic mess of what it's like growing up Queer. Except happier.





	1. Come On Bi | Friends of Dorothy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Coffee](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com), [Paye](http://kissaranea.tumblr.com), and Arnaud for their invaluable input and editing services.
> 
>  
> 
> [WE GOT ART!](http://besin-is-a-moogle.tumblr.com/post/162191292104)

“We don’t have to go in if you aren’t ready.”

He says it like we haven’t already taken a bullet train all the way from Insomnia to Galdin Quay. Like he hadn’t paid for both our tickets and sat with me for an entire hour as I hopped from panic attack to panic attack.

Noctis is the best friend a guy could ask for.

“But we came all this way,” I try to reason even as my hands begin to shake for the fifth time.

“Prom…” His voice is soft. His voice always gets soft when he’s about to say something sappy. “The whole reason we have to take a train for an hour is my fault. Don’t even worry about it. You’re not allowed to feel guilty for this.” His mouth twists humorously at the last bit, teeth peeking between his lips.

Already I can feel myself begin to smile. “Is that a Royal Decree?” I ask, voice low.

Leaning close, Noctis whispers an insistent, “That’s right.”

“Guess we better go in, then.”

“Guess we should.”

My hands clenched as I turned back to the door. The storm shutters have been opened wide, the glass pane of the main door revealing a long hallway branching off into different rooms in both directions. A stairwell curves upwards on the right.

“Want me to get the door for you?”

“Yes please.” My voice right there? Yeah, that wasn’t a voice. That was a squeak. Beautiful. I’m going to hurl. I’m going to vomit all over these nice shiny floors. Maybe I should just stay outside.

But now Noctis is moving and Gods – I am too. Why, autopilot? Why? You’re going to ruin some perfectly nice varnish.

A door opens, and someone peers out. A yellow-haired someone. Like me. You don’t see many blonds around, seeing as everyone’s Insomnian around here. Dark hair is the thing.

The someone smiles. “You here for the meeting?”

“Yeah,” Noctis replies, not missing a beat. “Yellow Brick Road, right?”

“That’s the one. Come right in. All friends of Dorothy are welcome.”

Noctis steps into the other room quickly, and I stumbled after him. Literally. Practically fell over the divider. And when I lay eyes on the next room – on the people clustered around a wide table that makes it nearly impossible to walk around – I realize something pretty belatedly.

This meeting is going to change my life.

As I settle into my seat, a large pile of nerves descend. At my side, seated with their legs thrown over the armrest of their chair, is the buxom someone with bright yellow hair who had peered out of the door. They are feminine, with a tight jacket showing off far more cleavage than I thought I’d see outside a Beatrix’s Secret magazine.

God are they beautiful.

They point to a clipboard on the table with a grin. “That’s the sign in sheet,” they say. “Don’t worry about sharing anything you don’t want to share – just leave it blank if you don’t want to tell anyone.”

“Sure.” Of course Noctis answers. He’s fine with beautiful people. Just.

Beautiful people.

They kind of scare me.

Noctis seems to be frowning at the page, though. Confused.

“Do I have to fill this out if I’m not – oh, there’s a straight option.” He marks the page with a pen. And then it’s my turn.

Why does it ever have to be my turn? Can’t I just be a ghost or something?

Someone chewed this pen.

There’s a rainbow on the clipboard.

Glancing over the sheet, I try not to vibrate as I read across the next blank row. _Name, age, pronouns, sexuality._

_Prompto Argentum. 14. He/Him._

My pen pauses against the paper, and it takes longer than I’d like to admit before I finish it.

 _Bisexual_.

There.

It exists on a piece of paper. Something official. Or vaguely official, at least.

 _I’m bisexual_.

“Looks like everyone’s here so let’s get things started.” At the head of the table is a woman. She’s tall with pale hair and wow, she’s beautiful. “Welcome to Galdin Queer Support Group, headed by Yellow Brick Road. First order of business-”

Confetti.

“- _Zidane just got top surgery!_ ”

It’s everywhere.

It’s rainbow.

How long did it take to cut this?

Why do people like confetti?

A round of applause sounds through the room and I’m trying not to glare at the little bits of tissue paper that are now settling in every corner of the room.

Why?

“Obviously he won’t be coming to meetings for a while, seeing as he needs to recover. In the meantime, if anyone would like to put some money in the pot to get him a nice gift, Garnet can take it at any time!”

A hat is pushed across the table, and people are actually putting money it. Not many. And not much. There’s, like… six hundred gil.

“Now, second order of business. Today we’ve got a visit from Kathy, which means it’s Cha Cha day. Again, if you don’t want to stay for the activity, you don’t have to. Now I’m turning things over to Quina. Would you mind starting introductions?”

The attention shifts, and as a large person stands, I find myself looking at a wide, pale face as they rise above the room, tall and towering and really, really wrinkled.

“Hello,” they greet. Their accent is thick. _Really_ thick. “My name Quina, they/them, eighty-nine year old, queer.”

There’s something like awe and shock minging in my stomach. Amazement? Surprise? I don’t know, but someone else in the room is _big_. This never happens.

Usually I’m the big person and people just… I don’t think people mean to, not all of them, but they stare.

And these people – everyone in this overly cluttered room – aren’t staring. It’s weird. They’re just… They’re looking up at Quina like their every word is precious. Like they can see past the weight and the pale skin of a foreigner and the freckles. Or maybe they see it and they don’t care. Or maybe they see it and they know better.

I wish I knew better, some days.

I’m just not used to this, I guess.

I wonder if anyone will ever look at me that way?

“We agreed on outing to park for thirteen of June,” they continue, their speech broken, warbling, but clear. “Make sure all have what you need Tuesday. Now, any Vegetarian before food is made?”

A few hands raise, and Quina nods.

“Vegetarian? No Vegan? Alright. We have cheese pizza in ten minutes.” They turned to the person to their right, face splitting in a grin. “You turn, Charles. Introduction. What happen during week?”

Slowly, a smaller person rose to their feet. They shift nervously, nibbling at snake bites and running a shaky hand through bright green hair. “Charles, seventeen, she/her, straight. I’ve started narrowing down my name choices for when I turn eighteen next month. I’m thinking of either Jane or Abigail.”

“I still vote Abigail,” someone put it.

“I’m leaning towards Abigail, too, but Jane has a nice ring to it,” she adds, and then settles back into her chair. Her attention turns to her right, where a taller man rises to his feet.

“Fabian, he/him, twenty, gayer than a day in May,” the man says, all confidence and grins. His eyes are narrow, skin is dark, and nose is big; attractively so.

Big noses are nice.

Big noses are really nice.

I think I just learned something.

He’s only a seat away. How did it take me so long to figure out how great guys are?

“I’ve got everything ready for my birthday next month so I can finally – at least legally – go to a gay bar.”

And then he sits and the feminine person next to me with yellow hair stands up and okay those are really short shorts. I just. Brain. Shorting. Work. Come on. I can do this.

“Cindy today, twenty, she/her as of this morning. Genderfluid, folks, and don’t you forget it. Pansexual.” She pauses, and there’s a moment that passes and I’m…

I’m starting to think even pretty people get anxious.

Even adults.

Sometimes especially adults.

“Grandpa says he’ll let me start working at the garage.”

People start banging on the tables. I shrink back in my chair. Noctis doesn’t look at that surprised, but Noctis is Noctis. He doesn’t usually look surprised. There are finger guns. Someone whistles. And then she’s _sitting_ and does that mean it’s _my turn_?

Noctis is pushing me up, though. Of course he is. And now I’m standing. And people are staring. But… But they’re not staring the way people usually do. And that’s a good thing. I think. “Prompto.” Gods, just that is hard enough to get out. “Fourteen. I’m… He/Him. Bisexual.”

People _reply_.

“Hi, Prompto,” someone says.

“Nice to meet you,” adds Charles.

Cindy seems… proud? That’s definitely a smile. A warm one.

“I, uh… This week I, um… Two days ago I came out to my best friend here.”

 _Oh Gods they’re applauding_.

It’s loud and it’s so _joyous_ . Someone is throwing some of the confetti back into the air and Fabian is leaning over and patting the arm of my chair and is this _normal_ ? There’s… There’s so much _energy_ . And it’s pointed at _me_.

I’m just… I’m blushing. I know I’m blushing. My face is hot and everyone seems so _happy_. “He, uh… He suggested we come here so I could have someone to talk to about it. In a safe space. So here…” Gods, there’s a lump in my throat. “So here we are.”

Everyone's so enthusiastic and I'm just sitting down. Even Cindy is smiling at me. A pretty woman – apparently also sometimes a pretty man – is _smiling_ at me.

And then Noctis is up and he's fixing everyone with his usual sleepy grin – nothing like the super focused look he gets whenever we're talking about gaming – and he's listing his labels off with his alias.

“Tess, fourteen – fifteen in two weeks. He/Him. I'm the token straight friend. Today's the first time I rode a bullet train.”

I have the greatest friend in the world.

…

Upstairs is Cha Cha lessons.

Noctis pairs with me.

 _God_ I’m glad he came.

They’ve got this nice little guitar song going on, and while I don’t know much about music, I think it’s kind of… sassy? Can you even use that word with music? It’s got a nice beat and no one was lost from the main meeting to the dance lesson. The attic is big and spacious. There are brightly colored pillows and a large clear container of condoms in the corner.

Noctis can’t dance for the life of him.

“Sorry,” he mutters again, stumbling a bit as we step out of the poor excuse for a lunch. I always forget how clumsy he is. It’s times like these that I am reminded that he’s not some perfect prince and that he’s a human – a relatively attractive human – with wants and needs and a rather extensive back injury.

Mostly the back injury thing. That's actually a large part of his personality.

He sort of wobbles into his steps, trying to get his arms open wide enough to step forward with his right leg as I do the same and it’s like he can’t get his balance. Pretty sure he can’t, actually. This is probably putting a lot of strain on his back, and he’s biting his lip.

We take another step, but Noctis pulls me in until our foreheads are flush. “You can act like we’re alone here,” he whispers. “No one will judge you.”

Did I… miss something? I probably missed something. Was I making faces, too? “Um… What?”

“You’re making that worried face.”

“Well, yeah,” I throw back. “I’m worried about you stepping through my spleen.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Let me worry about my feet. You just focus on being the fun guy I know you hide somewhere in there.” His hands are tight around mine. Gods, he’s such a sap sometimes. “You’re going to be fine.”

Oh.

I think I get it.

I haven’t really said anything in the last half hour and he’s wondering if I’ve withdrawn into myself which… I kind of have.

With a step forward and a twist of my arm, he’s spinning. Sorta. Noctis’ feet catch on the carpet and then I’m _lunging_ and okay he’s in my arms now, he’s okay. He almost got the ground but he's okay.

“Give a guy some warning,” he says, but he’s laughing so I guess we’re fine. He smiles. I smile. We’re all good. We’re always good.

Nothing could ever take this away.

…

The meeting is coming to a close. I’m sitting in the foyer waiting for Noctis to get back from the bathroom, and now…

Cindy.

A hand is tucking some of her hair back behind her ear as she tugs on a snapback, and she’s just… right here. Standing in front of me. Looking at me with this big grin that I’m not used to. “Prompto, right?” she asks.

“Yeah.” That was a squeak. Someone shoot me.

She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out this braided bracelet that’s pink, blue, and yellow, and now she’s holding it out to me. “Want one? I braid them sometimes. They’re the colors of the Pan flag.”

I reach out and take it, which makes her smile. And wow – could I look at that smile forever? Yes. Yes I could.

“Want my number?” she offers. “If you ever want to talk identity or sexuality, I’m usually free in the afternoons. I text ‘round the clock, though.”

Friendship. She’s offering _friendship_. I’m just. I’m so.

Overwhelmed.

Happy.

God.

“Yes.” I’m practically jumping. So uncool. But hey – who cares about being uncool? I’m about to get someone’s _phone number_. That’s cool by default, right? “That would be great!”

“Cool,” Cindy says, and now she’s holding out her phone so I get mine and I’m just…

I’m on Cloud 9, I think. That’s what they call it, right? Cloud 9?

Oh Gods Noctis is back and she’s leaving.

“You look happy,” he says.

“I am,” I reply. I can barely keep it in. Maybe I’m glowing.

We leave out the front door. A few of the others – Fabian and Charles – are smoking on the steps. Charles, I notice when her arm eases up for another drag, has some cuts scabbing on her inner wrist.

Maybe I shouldn’t think about that.

At least it’s horizontal.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t.

Everyone says goodbye when we leave, waving us off with the same enthusiasm we were greeted with. The walk to the train station isn’t as long as it had seemed when we’d been walking to the meeting. A short jaunt at best. Maybe a kilometer.

There’s someone from the meeting waiting for the same train we are; for the nonstop to Insomnia. Noctis tries to greet him – what was his name again? – but he’s brushed off as the boy seems to shrink into himself.

“It’s best we don’t know each other,” he says. “It’s safer that way.”

“Jerk,” Noctis mutters as he comes back over.

I don’t say anything, but I recall suddenly that we’re sixty miles from home to attend a queer support meeting. We have our reasons for not attending one in Insomnia.

Maybe he does, too.

...

“Okay, so which gate do I need again?”

“East Gate.”

“Isn’t that the one that’s practically impossible to find?”

“You have a smartphone, right? Use that.”

“You know I can't tell left and right apart or read maps.”

“You don't have to. There will be little arrows on screen showing you where to go. Here – let me show you.” I love looking for excuses to touch Noctis’ phone. It’s so nice. The camera is pretty good, too. It makes me feel important when I hold it; like I’m a super-spy sending a message to like… the King or something.

And I could.

Because Noctis’ dad is the King.

Yeah, weird.

Noctis is far too bored when he says, “You know, for a guy without a smartphone you sure know a lot about them.”

“Just treat it like your PS4 and you’ll be fine,” I say. Leaning closer to the phone, I say, “Okay, Moogle – take me home.”

“ _Okay, kupo_.”

Noctis’ eye roll is not missed.

I shove the phone at his chest. He takes it a touch slower than I would – _protect the phone_ – but he’s careful enough that I don’t tease him about it.

“Bye,” he says with a casual half wave, and then he’s stepping off into the station.

I wave back, standing in place for a long time before he fades from sight. And now… Now I’m alone. Standing in the station. Picking at the bracelet.

But I’m not alone, apparently.

“You’re a little old to be wearing one of those.”

Oh Gods.

“What would your parents say if they knew their son was a dirty pervert?”

Even though the station has started to slow down – the afternoon rush fading into the evening lull, hardly a soul in sight – there are two men flanking my back. I can smell the booze even before they’re there. Before they’ve blocked me off from the West Exit.

Oh Gods.

This can’t be happening.

One of them picks at the bracelet.

I jerk away.

Oh Gods.

“Think of your parents,” the taller one says before he reaches for it again. “Give it here.”

“Just because you’re… you’re older than me _doesn’t mean you can take away my right to autonomy_.” I’m not even sure if I used that word right? Did I? Oh, Gods, his breath stinks.

“Big words for a f-”

That’s a fist.

Guy’s on the ground.

That’s _Noctis oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods_.

…

I think… I think I just grabbed Noctis and ran. Like literally grabbed him. And picked him up lick a sack of potatoes. And ran.

We’re in a bathroom. Noctis is laughing. He’s literally on the floor laughing.

“Are you insane?” I’m squeaking again. Someone shoot me. “Do you want your dad to kill you?”

“Why would he kill me?”

“You just _assaulted someone_ !” I remind him. “You _punched_ them! Why wouldn’t he kill you? You… You knocked that guy clean out! He probably has a concussion! If he finds out a member of the _Royal Family_ did it you guys could be _sued_.”

Noctis snorts. “Can’t sue the Royal Family.”

Just. What.

He’s leaning against the wall, now. That bored look is back. Just. Why. “It would be a PR nightmare, though. Iggy wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”

“Your… attendant?”

“My _mom_ , practically. You’d like him. He’s all about rules and being prim and proper and stuff.”

I can’t believe this guy sometimes. “Just promise you won’t punch anyone for me again.”

“No promises.”

“ _Noctis_.”

…

The shower is warm and perfect and someone pinch me.

Today was a long day, okay? School, then an hour to Galdin Quay, then Galdin Queer, then an hour back, and Noctis…

Noctis _punched_ someone. For me. Noctis punched someone _for me_. I can’t even. I can’t. Just.

“Fuck,” I say to the otherwise empty shower, already feeling older.

I wonder what kissing Fabian would be like. He’s twenty, though. Should I really be thinking about that? I haven’t even spoken to him directly.

There’s a noise from the living room – the door.

 _Mom_.

Bathrobes feel strange when you practically fall into them. When you’re still soaking wet from the shower and just pulling it over your arms and tieing it around your stomach and rushing into the living room.

“Mom.”

There she is.

The highlights in her hair have faded, but her smile is the same. “Prompto, hello.” She walks up to me, and her arms are a familiar tight warmth around my shoulders. “Don’t forget to dry your hair. You’ll catch a cold.”

I miss her so much.

She’s right here, but I miss her so much.

And she’s… She’s grabbing her purse. Pulling away.

“You’re leaving?” I ask, trying not to give way beneath the sudden jerk in my stomach. “But you just got home!”

“I just stopped in for a change of clothes, honey.”

“Can… Can’t we eat something first?” It comes out as a weird plea, but mom doesn’t care how uncool I am.

She pauses. Pulls back the sleeve of her suit jacket to check her watch. Then she smiles at me. It’s a tired thing; small but sincere. “I can be a little late,” she reasons, looking me dead in the eye. “Go get dressed; I’ll get something going.”

I nod quickly, rushing off to my room. I’m careful to step over the divider at the bottom of my door, and shiver as thick carpet brushes my toes. The door is closed. The robe comes off, draped quickly over the front of the mirror angled toward the rest of my bedroom. Pulling open my set of drawers, I yank on some underwear, shorts, and a shirt before practically barrelling back into the hall.

“That was fast.”

Mom is already setting the table, her gray pant-suit undone a bit. Her jacket is draped across the back of one chair, and the top button of her blouse is loose. This is the mom I like best.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” she says, and I do.

Squealing as I pull it out, the chair is cushy and small as I collapsed into it, back straight as I watch her set down a small plate of Mochi and a cup of tea. I wait for her to sit. Wait for her to ease back in her chair with that look she gets after a long day at work. Predictably, she reaches for her purse and pulls out a cigarette. “Don’t tell your father,” she says with a wink.

“He hasn’t quit, either.”

She laughs, smoke seeping between her lips to play over the brim of her cup of tea. “Of course he hasn’t.” Fingers reaching for the first bit of mochi on her plate, she rolls it in her hand before taking a small bite. “It’s been too long since I last got to see you. Summer vacation is rolling around soon, right?”

“It, uh…” I clear my throat and reach for the tea. “That was last month?”

Her eyes are wide. “You’re kidding.”

The tea is smooth, but it steeped a bit too long and now it’s bitter. “I’m not.”

Tanned hands slip into dark hair as she leans against the table. For a while she doesn’t look at me. She’s thinking. “I’d like you to write down the dates for your winter break,” she says, “So I can request the time off.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I miss you,” she says.

I kind of deflate as I admit, “I miss you, too.”

Setting her mochi down, mom takes a sip of her tea, cradling it between her hands. “You’ve been growing up so fast and I’ve been missing it all.”

…

**Noctis: Outside the Station**

Stepping up to a sleek, dark car, Noctis pops open the door and slides in with a grimace.

“You’re late.”

Slamming the door shut in his wake, Noctis eyes the older boy sitting in the seat opposite him from beneath his eyelashes. “Don’t get your dick in a twist, Iggy – I got lost.”

“Wherever you needed to take the train to, you could have done it with a proper escort.”

“No, I really couldn’t.”

Ignis frowns, brushing back his dyed brown hair as it fell into his eyes to peer down at the phone in his hands. “Will I need to supply you with contraception?”

A snort follows. “ _Definitely_ not.”

“Do you need extra funds to be in the Quay, aside from train fare?”

“I mean, it’d be nice to get some fries or something? But no.”

Strong fingers tap at the glowing screen. Bright eyes turning on Noctis, he asks, “Will these trips be a regular occurrence?”

“About once a week, yeah.”

The sigh to follow is exasperated at best.

Behind his head, a window slides open. “If his little friend isn’t gonna join us, I’m gonna start driving.”

“Thank you, Gladio.”

It closes. The car begins to move.

“I’m going to ask you one thing before I let this drop.”

Eyes roll. “I don’t promise to answer.”

“What are you attending?”

“A youth support group.”

“Would you mind if I joined you next week?”

“Yeah,” he snaps. “Yeah, I really would.”

“Alright then.” Locking his phone, Ignis slipped it into his jacket pocket before easing back into his seat. “Is there anything else I need to know before we meet up with your math tutor?”

“Well, I punched someone in the station.”

“You did no such thing.”

Shrinking further into his seat, Noctis shrugs. “Some guys were harassing Prompto, so I just… Yeah. No one really saw, though. Prompto kind of freaked out. Literally lifted me off the ground and ran to the bathroom. You’d be proud.”

An eyebrow arches.

“It just got me thinking… maybe he should be Crownsguard. Once he turns eighteen, you know?”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“No. I just… He’d be a good fit, you know? And I wouldn’t ditch him like I do you guys.”

“It’s… something to think about.”


	2. Queer Me Up | Little Faun

I’m sixteen now. Fabian got Noctis and I fake IDs. We’re in line. The bouncer is checking them now.

I’m gonna  _ die _ .

Not literally. I’m just. She’s waving us in, now. She  _ believed it _ . She’s  _ stamping our hands oh Gods _ . The bar doesn’t smell half as strong of alcohol as I thought it would and there’s a lot of low light and tables and I’m just. I just. I can’t.

Noctis’ arm winds around my shoulders and he’s laughing. “Happy birthday, man!” he’s cheering quietly, and we’re heading in properly. There are tables everywhere, and Noctis plops himself down in one like he’s done it a thousand times.

It’s all I can do to pull out a chair a decent amount and hope it’s enough space for my stomach. It’s not. The chair is way too loud as I pull back, screeching and Gods I hope no one’s staring. Except someone is but it’s okay.

Jane’s braided bright green hair sticks out like a sore thumb among the crowd of dark ponytails and carefully cropped dark bobs. “Prompto, hey. Fabian hook you up?”

“I…” I try to shrug like it’s no big deal, but I’m pretty sure it comes across as a mildly enthusiastic slump of shoulders. “Yeah. It’s…” I make an effort to keep my eyes off her breasts – usually not a problem with other girls, but these breasts have a  _ story _ and they’re so  _ new _ so a little extra effort is apparently in order – and on her face. Should I congratulate her? Would it be weird? “It’s my birthday.”

She smiles at me, all coffee yellowed teeth and sparkly lip gloss, and I kind of want to hold her forever. Jane is just… She’s great. She’s all narrow angles and bright colors and jean jackets, half her head shaved and the rest in braids just like many people from Galahd.

The cuts on her wrists are healed.

_ Gods, _ am I happy the cuts are healed.

“What brings you into Insomnia?” I ask, because really? Why is she all the way out here?

“College outing,” she says, motioning behind her to the crowd of undyed bobs.  “I moved to Insomnia for classes last year. That’s why I haven’t been to group.”

“I was wondering. I missed you.” Don’t be a sap! Be cool! Or… not? Jane never seemed to care. But that’s why I’ve always liked her. Even when she was Charles and she was nervous and subdued. Okay, she’s smiling. Was that the right thing to say? I mean, I do want her to smile.

“I missed you, too, Prompto.”

Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods. I hope I don’t look like I’m panicking because  _ a cute girl just said she missed me _ .

“You look like you want to join us. Want to guide us through the differences between ciders and beers? We’ll get you something to eat, or maybe a drink.” Thank you for existing, Noctis. You are truly The Greatest Friend.

Brushing back a green braid that escaped the rest, Jane smiles. “You know what? I’d love to. I’ll just tell the group I ran into some old friends. They’ll understand.” And then she left.

I lean close to Noctis, trying not to gape. “Did you just get Jane to hang out with us?”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to die.”

“You’re going to be fine.”

“So, do you guys prefer oolong or green tea?” Jane was back, waving a drink menu before our faces like a trophy.

“Green.” Why, voice? Why squeak now? Traitor!

“Oolong,” Noctis says.

“With ten spoons of sugar,” I add.

“True.”

Jane laughs.

…

We only get two shots in before Noctis gets a call from Ignis about a curfew.

Jane invites me over.

…

She kisses me on the train.

We’re both sober.

It’s my first kiss.

…

Jane has a really sweet video game collection.

“These are all yours?” I ask like it isn’t obvious and I’m not a total pleb.

“Yeah. Although the Final Fantasy series is where my heart’s at,” she shouts from the kitchen. There’s the sound of a microwave, and the distinct pop of popcorn.

“Final Fantasy?”

“Yeah. You ever play it before?”

“A few times. I didn’t get very far,” I admit. Really, I had lost track of my boat and rage-quit after running into one too many Gigas.

This, apparently, needed to be rectified and I am now being riddled with a series of questions about plot preference and now we’re popping Final Fantasy XII in her computer. “I’ve got PSX,” she explains with a hand wave. “This game fried my PS2 ages ago. The intro will make you cry.”

It does.

A lot.

“But- Why would they open like that?! That’s so sad.” I’m crying and apparently she loves it.

“Right? Just… It gets you involved right off, though. He’s really likable, and kind of ties the main character in because… He… He doesn’t really make sense to be there otherwise.”

“What?”

“It’s hard to explain,” she says, turning to face me and then…

Wow.

Her eyes are really nice.

And now she’s kissing me, and that is  _ great _ . Her hands are on my cheeks, mine are on her shoulders, and this is  _ great _ . Fingers tangle in my hair and-  _ fuck _ .  _ No _ .  _ Bad boner _ .

“Someone’s happy,” she says, voice teasing.

“You’re the first person I’ve kissed,” I say because apparently I’m the most awkward creature to exist in the history of ever.

And she looks… sad? Confused? “Really?”

“Yeah.” Someone shoot me.

That’s a smile. “I’m…” She bites her lip. Gods, she’s beautiful. “I’m honored.”

Oh.

She leans back in her chair, and she’s got the cutest little flush across her cheeks. “That’s… I’ve had a crush on you for a while, actually. Since I was Charles. You were always so nice at group, and I guess I was really impressed that you managed to still be friends with Tess and hanging out with him two years later.”

I’m thrown for a loop for a second before I realize she’s calling Noctis by his alias.

Dark eyes roll. “I’m just kinda envious, you know? I can’t keep a friend for six months, let alone years like you have.”

“Tess is the greatest friend I could ever ask for.”

“How long have you known him?”

“We were about eleven when we first started hanging out.”

“That’s really impressive, Prompto.”

…

Jane likes nibbling on my lips.

…

We fall asleep on the couch. Jane lays on top of me; my arms are around her.

…

“What are you even doing here?!”

“I came to check in on you!”

“So what, mom? You don’t even knock?”

“I have a key!”

“I’m an adult! I’m not in some bedroom down the hallway any more!”

“And who do you think is paying your rent?”

“That doesn’t invalidate my right to privacy?”

This is not what I expected to wake up to. “This” meaning Jane in the middle of a screaming match with a version of her who is… even smaller. Older. Her mom, probably.

Her mom whose face is red from screaming and hands clenching at her sides before motioning to me like I’m a particularly large, ugly lamp. “We were dealing with the hair and the  _ hormones _ , and we figured once you’d graduated you’d grow out of this…  _ gender _ stuff in the face of the job market, but a  _ boy _ ?  _ Really _ , Charles?”

“My gender is not a phase, mom! And he has nothing to do with this.”

“I think we have a right to know that you’re  _ gay _ .” Wow, her mom is a piece of work.

“I’m not gay, mom-”

“Don’t lie to me, Charles-”

“Her name is Jane.” Seriously, why doesn’t Jane correct- oh Gods they’re looking at me.

Jane’s mouth has fallen open.

Her mom’s has not. “You need to leave,” she says. “You have no business being in this conversation.”

I turn to Jane, but…

Jane is quiet.

With a shrug, I grab my phone and I make my way to the door, trying to play it off. When I open it, Jane is there.

“I’ll call you, okay?” she promises as I step into the hall.

And then I’m alone on the wrong side of town with no idea how to get home first thing in the morning on a Saturday. Mom’s in a meeting. Dad’s on a business retreat.

Noctis picks up. He gives me directions to the station. He meets me at the West Gate and we walk the rest of the way to the apartment he has nearby.

I don’t want to tell him about Jane.

…

I wait for her to call.

Monday comes.

…

Sunshine. I think I hate it.

It’s Monday morning and the sky is blinding and I’m about ready to throw up. I still feel like my stomach can’t settle in any specific place that falls in the range of normal. Aren’t you supposed to stop feeling shitty at some point? Time heals all wounds and all that? But here I am, two days later, sitting at the back of class and feeling just as bad as I did when Jane closed the door in my face. I wonder how much happier I would be if I could just…  _ not _ dwell on things until I was bent over a toilet at two in the morning.

Noctis is stepping through the door, moving over to me like I’m the only person in the universe. People actively step out of his way, now. Crown Prince thing aside, he doesn’t really make himself approachable. It makes less sense the more I know him. But then, he’s a very different person when we’re alone.

His hand lands on my desk and now he’s leaning in to whisper. “Hey, Prom, you wanna head up to the roof with me real quick?”

“Uh…” I glance at the board, then back at him. “Class starts in five minutes.”

“Yeah I know.” His face says he doesn’t really care. “I need to get this out of the way before I freak, okay?”

Okay, that’s panic. That is most definitely panic rising up in my stomach right now. Don’t throw up, don’t throw up… “Sure.” I’m getting up but really I wanna just throw myself into the sun. Melt away my worries, Oh Star. “Is this about anything I should know about?”

“It has a little to do with what happened on Saturday.”

Oh Gods, _ oh Gods,  _ **_oh Gods_ ** . Did I step over some invisible line by calling him? “Oh.” There it is, that little seed of  _ does he still want to be your friend _ ? Just… I’m just sabotaging myself. This probably has nothing to do with what I’m thinking. I’m just… I’m just  _ overthinking _ it so I should just  _ stop thinking _ .

Oh shit we’re on the roof already how long did I zone out  _ oh Gods _ .

There’s no one on the roof, unless you count the breeze as a living being. As Noctis steps out I’m trying not to throw up.

The door closes behind me.

He’s scanning the roof – it’s already empty, dude – and now he’s looking at me with that… that little soft smile he gets before he’s about to do something incredibly sappy. In his hand is a phone. A new one. “I was really worried about you this Saturday,” he confesses quietly. “I just want to be sure that if this ever happens again and I can’t pick up, you’re taken care of.”

“That’s… for me?”

“Yeah. Here, it has a map and a taxi app.” He steps in close to me, and he’s tapping through the menu to show off the apps he’s already downloaded. “King’s Knight is on here, too, so we can play that together now.”

I’m crying.

“There’s this urban legend that if you play with the pom-pom on the Moogle app for long enough it’ll lock your phone for ten minutes.” Noctis’ mouth is in this wide, nervous smile, but when he turns to look at me it drops. “Prom, you okay?”

“You didn’t have to do this?”

We’re shoulder to shoulder now. Noctis is nudging me with his elbow. “I wanted to, man. I want to know you’re safe, and it’s less weird if I just give you a tool you can use to ensure that than if I, like… assign a car to you or something.”

I snort. “Yeah. That’d be weird. A pleb riding around in one of the King’s cars.”

“You’re my best friend, and I want to know you’re safe.”

“I know.”

“Also, you should check out the camera on this thing.” Swinging the camera from side to side, he tapped at the icon in the right hand side of the screen. Suddenly we were being prompted for ISO quantities.

“Is that what I think it is?”

He’s got that sickly sweet smile again. “You won’t let me buy you a camera, but this is still a lot better than that beat up little point and shoot you’ve been lugging around,” he says like it’s no big deal. “This way, when you get a camera – a nice one – you’ll already know how to use it.”

Gods, help me. Noctis is The Best Friend Ever. There’s something in my chest, now. It’s warm and wet and it’s forcing its way out of my face like a demon. Stupid tears.

“So emotional,” Noctis teases like his arm isn’t already winding around my shoulders, drawing me into his side.

“Sap,” I fire back pathetically.

He whistles. “Ooh, shots fired.”

…

I call Jane.

“Hey,” I say, feeling stupid.

_ “Who’s this?” _ she asks.

“It’s Prompto. Long story, but I got a new phone.” This is super awkward. “You didn’t call.”

_ “Oh.” _

Oh?

That’s it?

“Is everything alright?” I ask, knowing full well it is  _ not _ . Please don’t lie to me. Please don’t-

_ “Look, Prompto… I’m not gonna be going to meetings any more, okay? And… we shouldn’t see each other again.” _

Gods. Just…  _ Why _ ? Something is obviously wrong and… I’m probably the only person who can’t do jack shit is probably why. Just a stupid  _ fucking _ sixteen year old. “What’s wrong?” Why am I even asking?

_ “Bringing you home was a mistake, okay?” _

I can’t breathe.

_ “Prompto?” _

“Was kissing me a mistake?” Don’t answer. Please don’t answer. But I  _ need to know _ .

All I know is silence for a long, tense second before her voice whispers through the line.

_ “Yeah.” _ The words sounds a bit broken; mangled between a squeak and a sob.  _ “Yeah, it was.” _

“Jane-”

_ “Don’t call me again.” _

I want to throw up.

…

When people want to forget their troubles, they drink. Right?

I'm starting to think this is a terrible idea. Mainly ‘cause I tried to be some cool character from one of those Niff action flicks and ordered a scotch on the rocks. I do not, it turns out, like scotch on the rocks. It's mostly water at this point. The “rocks” are dissolving into the drink, watering it down until I can maybe swallow a sip if I don't let it touch my tongue.

Starting to think alcohol works like games do. You can't just pick up a copy of Dark Souls 2 and start with the final boss. You have to work your way up. Maybe scotch is the same.

Scotch is the Dark Souls 2.

Try saying that out of context.

So apparently it’s karaoke night at this tiny little dive bar, and there’s a group of women… singing? Is that the word? They’re not singing-  _ lip synching _ . That’s what it’s called. They’ve all got big hair and thick makeup and I  _ think _ they’re Drag Queens but I’m not quite sure. I’ve never seen a Queen in person before, and I’m not about to instigate a boob check. Besides, men can have boobs, too. I would know. (I’ve also met enough trans men to know better, so there’s that.)

And one’s coming to the bar so I might even find out. 

Or maybe I could just… stare at the bar. That seems like a more attractive prospect than talking to someone right now.

Why couldn’t I just go to an alcohol store and buy some booze there? Answer? I probably didn’t think this through correctly. Granted, I don’t really think through much of anything the way I should.

The Queen – I’m just gonna call her that – orders a drink. “A  [ Tonberry ](http://www.elledecor.com/life-culture/food-drink/g8978438/green-drinks/?slide=17) , please, with a line of salt,” she says, lips curving around the word. She watches as he mixes it; as his hands pour an inordinate amount of whiskey into a tumbler. When the bartender hands it over it’s this dark green concoction with an entire cinnamon stick and line of salt around the edge. She winks at the man behind the counter, fake lashes fluttering alluringly. Like… okay, wow.

Her eyeliner? Swooped. Smokey gray eyeshadow. Her lips are this deep purple and her hair is… I’m pretty sure it’s not a wig. It’s long and curly and draped over her shoulder and… wow. Her dress doesn’t show any cleavage but it’s slinky enough to show her hourglass waist and I’m staring aren’t I?

“You doing alright, little faun?”

I look up.

Our eyes meet.

“Little faun?” Can I just. Turn off the squeak setting. Please. Puberty, take me now; my body is ready.

Her expression is strange for a second, but it falls away in a quick second and now she’s just smiling. Wow. She’s… She’s got this  _ smile _ . 

I just. I have a weakness for smiles, I think.

But…  _ wow _ .

“You’re all speckled,” she says, like it’s obvious.

“Speckled?”

“Your freckles,” she says, amused. “You’re like a little blond faun.”

“Is that… a compliment?”

“Very much.”

I take a sip of the scotch in an attempt to look cool, but I… Okay, yeah, I just gagged and spit all over myself. Just. Why?

She’s patting at me with a napkin, frowning down at my drink. “Darling, don’t start with scotch. You’ve got to work your way up to it. Mind if I order you a drink?”

Wow, she’s smooth. “Uh, sure.” Can’t hurt to learn a bit more about alcohol.

Her hand lifts, and she’s motioning to the bartender with a flirtatious smile. “A  [ Moogle Mudpie ](http://www.liquor.com/recipes/peanut-butter-cup-martini/#gs.VwJGcjM) for the little faun here.”

He answers with a snort and a nod.

I’m missing a joke, aren’t I? There’s a-  _ they both know I’m underage _ .

_ That’s the joke. _

Wow, I’m almost disappointed. Granted, I usually expect a jab at my weight or something. But no – it’s literally just my age. And apparently they don’t care. It’s weird. It’s… slightly illegal?

I really like this Queen.

“So what’s the problem, little faun?”

I wave her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Now the drink’s here, and… “Is that a peanut butter cup?”

“Drink that little baby slowly, faun; she packs a punch.”

“Did you guess?”

“What?”

“Peanut butter is my favorite.”

There’s a pause. A squeal as she shifts in her chair. She looks… a bit uncomfortable. “I made an educated guess,” she says after a while. Then, bending forward, she snatches up the martini glass and takes the smallest of sips before setting it back into place. “Besides, this way I can steal some.”

I laugh like my entire reality didn’t just narrow to the smudge of purple lipstick on the glass.

“I’m Celeste,” she says.

“Prompto.”

She smiles at me.

Wow.

“So,” she begins, easing against the counter, “what’s got that frown right-side down?”

Okay. That? That requires a response. And my awkward ass? Can’t reply. I’m just. I’m kind of frozen? I don’t even know?

“We can move to a booth if this is too public for you.”

Self, why do you nod? You just want to be alone with her. Traitor. Trading secrets for… this… peanut buttery concoction of… Shit, this martini is  _ good _ .

So we’re at a booth now. I mean, my legs wobbled all the way here, and she called me “little faun,” again, but damn she’s close and  _ wow _ her eyes are this gold-flecked green and I’m just about ready to faint.

“Spill,” she says, setting her purse on the table like we’re two teenage girls in a Niff movie about Becky Cheating On Someone And Drama Ensuing.

“I kissed someone for the first time yesterday.” Note to self; take a vow of silence. Maybe some time between now and death puberty will hit and your voice will stop squeaking.

“So sweet!” she coos. “Was it true love?”

“Um… No.”

A giggle follows. “Bitter, aren’t you?” She takes a sip of her drink; always in the same spot. The streaks left by her lipstick are getting darker.

Leaning back in the booth, I take another bracing sip of the martini and set it on the table with what I imagine sounds like a heavy sigh. I feel like I’m deflating as my lips tug up in what I know must look like some stupid smile. “I’ve known her for years, but we met at a bar the other night. We got to talking, and then we went back to her place. She kissed me on the train, and it was… It was really nice.

“We played video games for hours. Passed out on the couch together. It was… incredible.” I pause, like somehow that’ll make the next part easier. I think it just gets harder. “Then her mom decided to drop by for a visit without knocking and… I woke up when they started yelling at each other. The girl I was with – she’s trans.

“Apparently her mom was ‘willing to deal’ with the ‘gender thing,’ but she wasn’t happy that her ‘son’ was ‘gay.’ Like… who even says that? And I… I might have said a few things, and her mom basically kicked me out. She promised to call, but she  _ didn’t _ and then  _ I called to check on her _ and was essentially told  _ not _ to and… I’m just… I’m really worried about her.”

Good job, Prompto. Why don’t you tell her your life story while you’re at it? Or about your anxiety? Or about your body image issues? Or, I don’t know – maybe your masturbatory fantasies?

Fake nails click the table and Celeste’s hands…

They’re so soft, and they’re covering mine.

“That is the worst feeling.”

God, it really is. But I shrug, because hey – emotions are supposed to be no big deal, right?

Celeste’s smile is long gone, now. Instead she’s got this expression that pierces me. Her lips are drawn tight; eyes are crumpling; eyebrows – thick, dark things – are furrowing. It’s like…

It’s like she’s only looking at me.

My fingers are twisting around the neck of the martini glass, and I’m taking another sip. There’s more chocolate in this one; less peanut. Glad I’m not allergic. “When she kicked me out, I didn’t even know where I was. My parents are out of town, but my best friend picked up his phone. It was six in the morning. He was probably sleeping. He gave me directions to the station.”

“Sounds like a good friend.”

“He gave me a smartphone so if it ever happened again and he couldn’t pick up, I wouldn’t be stranded. I’ve… I’ve never received anything so expensive before. I’m kind of freaking out.”

Celeste is quiet for a moment before leaning forward, asking with total seriousness, “He isn’t holding that against you, is he?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. I’m just… laughing. “Right. Like he would hold anything against me.”

“Sounds a bit too good to be true.”

“We’ve been best friends since we were ten and trust me when I say I don’t deserve him. He’s… He’s the best.”

“You must be very close.” Her voice almost sounds bottled. Like she’s quoting a movie, or a book she’s read.

The martini glass is cold against my lips, and now that I’m taking another sip of the Moogle Mudpie I’m starting to realize I’m getting kinda… drunk. “I know I’m not supposed to ask, but how old are you?”

This, apparently, makes her laugh. “How old do you think I am?” she asks, leaning in close with a downright  _ foxy _ grin.

“I dunno. I mean…” All that’s left of the martini is the peanut butter cup, now. I shove it in my mouth and figure a vow of silence would be good to start right about now.

Her hand reaches over again, squeezing mine. “You’re a good kid,” she whispers, “for all that you’re here with a fake ID.”

Just throw me into the sun. “Is it that obvious?” I mumble around the cup.

She shrugs, easing back into the booth and flipping her hair over her shoulder like it’s a mild annoyance. She just looks pretty, though. “As long as you learn to safely gauge yourself, it’s fine.”

That’s… apparently a thing.

“You’re young and pretty,” she says, and isn’t that patronizing? I mean, I guess she doesn’t mean it that way, but it is? Or maybe I’m missing out of the meaning of the words; the nuance. “Do you have any plans for the future?”

Oh, loaded question. “I’m sixteen,” I point out weakly.

Celeste, to her credit, looks far from surprised. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have an idea of what you wouldn’t hate doing for a good decade or two.”

“I wouldn’t hate taking photos, but all the equipment is so… expensive.” Did I just say that out loud? It’s the alcohol. It’s gotta be the alcohol. “What do you do?”

She flips her hair, easing back into her seat with a groan. “Oh, I’m just a pencil pusher. Always at the edge of my seat for some hot office gossip. It’s boring, really. The most fun I have is sneaking videos of rabbits when I’m between projects.”

“Rabbits?”

“They’re adorable little jerks. I love them when they’re fighting off hawks. It’s wonderful.”

“ _ Hawks? _ ”

Now her phone is out, and she’s tapping through screens and… huh. That’s literally a rabbit fighting off a hawk.

“See, it doesn’t allow the hawk to get any momentum,” she narrates, pointing from the rabbit’s flailing arms to the bird’s talons. 

“That’s a pretty… b… badass… bunny.” Bs are hard all of a sudden. Am I drunk? I mean, I did drink that martini pretty quickly. “I should pro… pro-ba-bly go home. It’s late.” Oh, wow, I think I’m drunk. The booth is cold as I slide out from beneath the table, or maybe my body is hot. But the world is swaying now. Is it the martini? Or is that scotch finally hitting me?

Celeste’s hands are soft. “Careful, little faun!” She’s trying to laugh, but there’s a sharp, scared edge to her voice. “Sit down and sober up a bit first. That drink might have been a little strong for you.”

“I don’t live far,” I confess. Should I be saying that to a stranger?

“Honey, no, don’t…” Her hands push me up against the wall until I’m mostly vertical. “Prompto, I’m going to get you a bottle of water from the bar, okay? It’s going to be sealed, and you need to watch the transaction. This is something you need to learn. Check the seal before you drink it. Do you understand?”

This… isn’t what I expected. I nod slowly, but I gotta admit I don’t pay much attention to the whole thing. I’m looking right at it and it just isn’t registering. How strong was that drink? Or was it how fast I drank it? I’m a big guy. It shouldn’t have hit me so quick.

Not that I know much about alcohol.

Celeste’s fingers are twisting in mine, winding my hands around a bottle.

The seal is intact.

“Just because the seal is good doesn’t mean it’s safe,” she’s warning me now. “There are ways to open a bottle without disturbing the seal. Whenever you get water when you’re with someone – even if you know them – get the bottle personally. Can you call a friend to pick you up?”

I frown. I bet I’m frowning like a child. Is this what alcohol does? I’m not sure I like it. “He tends to go to bed really early.”

“Do you have another friend? Maybe one with a car?”

“They live in Hammerhead.”

Her lips purse, then split into another smile. This one is weaker. “Okay, how about this? I’m going to walk you home, okay? We’re going to go over and have the bartender take a photo of both of us and our IDs. You’re also going to take a photo of us and I want you to send it to that friend of yours who’s sleeping, right? Send him a message that you’re being walked home by the person in the photo.”

“Why?”

“You need to do this whenever you’re not sober, faun, or whenever you don’t feel safe. Don’t trust a stranger. It doesn’t matter how nice they are.”

“So I shouldn’t trust you?”

“Honey, you should especially not trust me.”

We take a selfie together – my first selfie, actually – and send it off to Noctis with a caption saying, “Drunk. Stranger walking me home.” I smile pretty wide for the photo, considering the context. We continue this with the bartender. We hand over our IDs and the man behind the counter smiles at us and wishes us a safe night.

Now we’re outside, and I’m pointing her to the next street. Her arm is around my back, keeping me right-side-up as we begin to make our way down the block.

It’s so surreal.

“I’m not heavy, am I?” I’m slurring now. I think I prefer that to squeaking.

“Hardly,” she replies lightly. “I’m a tough girl.”

We pass beneath a street lamp, illuminating her properly, and for the first time I notice the high cheekbones, biceps corded with muscle, prominent adam's apple, and her large, chiselled nose. “You’re really beautiful.”

Celeste seems put off by this, but as she replies we draw away from the illumination of the lamp and I can’t see her expression. “Thank you.”

“You’re also really nice and you actually look at me like a human being.” Shut me up,  _ shut me up,  _ **_shut me up_ ** _. _

“Uh-”

“Why couldn’t you have been my first kiss?”  **_I am never drinking ever again_ ** . Filter, where art thou?

“I-”

“You’re nice and pretty and smart-”

“I’m a man.”

“Dude, I figured that out ages ago-” five seconds ago but hey, “-and that doesn’t mean you aren’t nice and pretty and…” My voice is cracking. Oh, Gods, I’m a crying drunk with no filter. “And I’m  _ fat _ and people seem just so…  _ insulted _ by this? And it’s just so rare that someone’s  _ not _ , but even then I rarely have the courage to so much as talk to them because I’m this big ball of nerves.”

“You’ve met some messed up people.”

“When you’re fat, almost everyone’s messed up. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jane just panicked and didn’t call because she didn’t want to ever feel obligated to sleep with me.”

“You’re beautiful.” Gods, that sounds so sincere but it’s so… patronizing. Maybe that’s how she felt when I said it earlier.

“We’re here,” I say instead, because… Well, we are here. My apartment complex looms before us, completely ordinary looking. “Thanks for walking me home.”

Celeste pulls her arm out from where it’s wrapped around my waist and… she’s so warm. I already miss it. I step up to my door, hands shaking nervously even as I grip my keys. Gods, I just laid everything bare… Shit. Shit, I’m crying. I can’t see the doorknob.

But now a soft hand – Celeste’s hand –  is carefully, slowly taking my keys. There’s the zip of metal on metal and the turning of tumblers.

The door opens.

The keys are in my hand.

I blink away the tears. Celeste is close, so close. Our foreheads brush. Am I going to have foundation on me after this?

She pushes me through the door and her hand…

Her hand slides down.

“Are you sober enough to consent?” she asks, fingers playing with the button of my jeans.

“I… don’t know.” I’ve got this really vivid mental image, now. Celeste on her knees, my hands in her hair, her mouth on my…  _ fuck _ .

“ _ Shit _ ,” she whispers, only to lean forward and…

Firm.

Her lips are firm.

Her hands are soft.

Her touch is gentle.

Her stubble sends a happy chill up my spine.

Her biceps are hard.

So, it seems, is her dick.

The kiss breaks. Lipstick is smudged, expression heady, Celeste looks me dead in the eye and squeaks out an embarrassed, “You’re kind of my type.”

“I am?” Now that’s a thought.

“You’re beautiful,” she tells me again. And now there’s this shadow passing over her face. Not a literal shadow; a metaphorical one. Her smile drops. Her entire body language droops. And as she looks me in the eye one last time, she admits, “I should go before I do something.”

Within seconds she’s gone. This hallway feels cold without her.

I wonder… if I had said yes when she asked if I could consent, would I have gotten her number?

But that, that’s not consent, is it?

…

**Celeste: At Home**

Modest heels click across freshly waxed hardwood floors before Celeste carefully toes them off beside a bench. Turning to the rest of the apartment, she steps over the divider between the foyer and thick carpet, pantyhose sliding through the fibers as she makes her way to the bathroom. Fingers flip on the light switch. She sets her purse on the counter. Stares into the mirror. Tugging it open, she pulls out a jar before replacing the mirror. She slowly removes several hair pins. Then, reaching for her fringe, she tugs.

The wig came off with little else in the way of encouragement. Smoothing the dark coif over her hand, Celeste hooks her fingers beneath the first of the straps before hanging it delicately on a hook against the wall. She turns back to the mirror. Off comes the wig cap, revealing messy, lightly bleached hair. The roots are dark and growing long.

Nabbing up a moist towelette from a small box beside the sink, she begins to dab at her eyeliner. At the smoky shadows elegantly highlighting her lids. At the blush set deep in her high cheekbones. Foundation is wiped away; a gentle spattering of moles revealed to the light.

She stops at her lips.

Lipstick, smeared…

Setting the towelette down, she quickly rinses her hands before nabbing up a small contact case and filling it quickly with small rounds of plastic she carefully dabs from her eyes. A pair of glasses slide over her nose. Reaching for the straps of her dress, she carefully eases them over her shoulders. It falls to the floor in a heap, followed by a padded bra, pantyhose, and some reinforced tucking underwear. Her cock swings free before she turns back to the mirror.

To the smudged, fading lipstick.

Her mouth curves into a giddy smile before she wipes it away with the last clean section of towelette.

She is now a He.

He fires finger guns at the mirror, then hops, shoulders shaking as if preparing for a fight. He bites his lip.

At his elbow, the purse begins to sing.

Reaching into the depths, he produces a single cell phone. He taps to accept the call, placing it against his ear as he reaches for a hand towel and slathering a good deal of liquid from a bottle labeled “Foaming Nighttime Face Wash” into the fabric.

“Ignis Scientia speaking.”

_ “It’s me.” _

“Gladiolus, hello.”

_ “How was it?” _

“It was good. Just a moment.” Setting the phone down, he grabs at the faucet handle and turns the hot water all the way up, dousing the rag before vigorously scrubbing his face. It’s over in seconds, and he splashes water over his face before hanging the towel over the shower, wiping his face, and grabbing up the laundry from the floor. He frowns at a sweat stain on the dress. Pressing the phone back against his ear, he heads out into the hall. “Most of the girls didn’t show up so we decided to call it an early night.”

_ “Sorry I couldn’t go with you.” _

“No worries. I…” He trails off, pausing before his closet. He drops the dress in a yellow basket, the pantyhose and padded bra in a black tote, and the underwear is thrown directly into the washing machine. “I had a nice chat with someone at the bar. I don’t think he recognized me. Not with the dress and most  _ certainly _ not without my glasses.”

_ “Your glasses. Sure. Because the dress wasn’t enough.” _

Ignis snorts. Stepping down the hall, he opens a door and steps into a room, collapsing onto a large bed with a sigh before wiggling under the covers.

_ “So who was it?” _

“You know Noctis’ little friend? The one with the freckles?”

_ “He only has one, Ignis. Prompto, right? Isn’t he underage?” _

“For drinking, most certainly.”

_ “You’re one to talk.” _

“Thank you for the input Sir I'm-One-Year-Older-And-Don't-You-Forget-It.”

_ “You drink a lot for an eighteen year old.” _

“I’m only four months out, Gladio.”

_ “Yeah, well I figured you’d be the type to be pretty strict about the legal drinking age.” _

“Do you want to hear about my night or not?”

_ “So what happened?” _

Ignis scooches up on the bed, making his way lazily toward the pillow. “We met at the bar. Talked for a bit. Apparently he was having some girl trouble.”

_ “Prompto? Girl trouble? You’re kidding right? Guy’s so…” _ He trails off for a second, silence crackling over the line.  _ “He’s so awkward, man.” _

“Like a little faun taking his first steps.”

_ “... Iggy.” _

“Yes, Gladio?”

_ “Did you sleep with the ‘little faun’?” _

Eyebrows arch as Ignis settles against the pillows. “I did not, thanks.”

_ “You did. You’ve got the happy voice. You’re finally moving on.” _

“For the love of– I did not cheat on Akira.”

_ “One, you’re on a break. Two, it’s not cheating when you agree to see other people. Seriously, Iggy, get with the program. You finally nailed someone else. Stop lying.” _

“We  _ kissed, _ alright? I…” Hand slapping over his face, Ignis groans. He curls into the covers. Fingers trace the curve of his lips. “I feel like a teenage girl.”

_ “That’s it? You just kissed?” _

“Honestly, what did you expect?” he drawls back. “He’s sixteen and I have… I have Akira.”

_ “You’re on a break,”  _ is the dry reply.  _ “Again.” _

“Technicalities. Besides, it’s not exactly in good form to proposition the best friend of the Crown Prince.”

_ “Well, if you liked it so much that you’ve got the freshly fucked voice, why don’t you just call Akira-” _

“We’re not talking about this, Gladio.”

_ “But-” _

“Goodnight.”

A sigh comes. Then a snort.  _ “Sleep well.” _

Drawing the phone away from his ear, Ignis ends the call. It’s a while before he takes a long, languid breath, finger sliding along the seam of his lips. Then he taps through his phone and makes another call.

It rings twice before someone answers.

_ “Hey, Nessie.” _

“Evening Akira.”

_ “You doing okay? You sound depressed.” _

“I don’t want to be on break any more.”

_ “... Okay.” _


	3. Come on Over | Lie to Me

It's weird, knowing Jane won't come back to the meetings. Not knowing if she'll be okay. Not knowing if she's safe. And as everyone says their piece during introductions – as Noctis says, “Tess, sixteen, he/him, straight. This week I went out with Prompto here for his birthday. So that was cool.” – I just want to scream at the top of my lungs.

Instead, I just listen to the mild clapping.

They turn to me.

I don't want to be here.

“Pst, Prompto.” Noctis is nudging my shoulder, now. He leans over in his chair to brush my arm with his elbow when that isn't enough.

“Pass,” I say.

“What?”

“I said ‘pass.’”

He gives me this look like he can't believe what he's hearing.

I should at least stand up and say something like, “I had my birthday. It was cool.” But there's this lump in my throat, and it's been there since Jane closed that door in my face. Physically and metaphorically.

Gods, I hope she's okay.

We've finished with introductions. Now it's on to the learning portion. Today, it seems, is proper condom use. And then, apparently, the art of inflating a condom and using it as a really round, awkward sword. Noctis apparently thinks this is a good idea, and we've started this really weird duel between a ribbed and a studded condom.

Noctis pops his on my head.

I win.

And I think I'm feeling a little better.

Eventually some of the other teams have to leave, and then it's just Noctis and me for the activity, so Quina’s calling it a night. The new advisor, though, turns to us.

“Before I leave, is there anything you'd like to ask me?” Her voice is deep and pleasant. Her smile is warm and open.

I shrug, but Noctis-

“How do you have anal sex?”

-seems to want me to die a slow and painful death as my brain collapses from anxiety. Can you die from fear? Because I'm inside and it would be difficult to ask for a bolt of lightning. Although, Ramuh, if you're listening that would be really nice right about now.

“No problem. So do you have anything to take notes with?”

We don't. She hands us notepads with the Plan B insignia at the top.

That's a no on that lighting bolt, I see.

The pens are pregnancy tests.

Why.

“Alright. The first thing you need to know is there is a lot of prep work with anal sex; the most important steps being having everything you need and knowing your body’s schedule.”

… What? Schedule?

Huh.

Maybe I _should_ learn this.

“You’re going to want to avoid eating anything greasy for a few days beforehand. Items high in fiber are preferred for a healthy bowel movement, which you’ll need if you want to clean up as quickly as possible.”

Wow. I could make so many poop jokes right now. But I’m sixteen now – almost an adult. I should be above those sorts of things now… right?

I gotta admit, I’m not making as much of an effort as I should be to take down these notes. Noctis is taking enough for the both of us, though. My face is probably six different shades of red right now, anyways, and if I pass out I don’t think anyone would be surprised.

“After you’ve had a bowel movement, we move on to enemas and douches.” She doesn’t- _she does_ . Her hands disappear into her bag and hold aloft some things you can _Google your goddamn self_. “You can use an enema or a douche to clean from there. However, you don’t want to do this too often. You can dry out your rectal passage this way, and if you do it too often this can lead to killing a lot of the healthy bacteria your body needs. After that, it’s actually recommended that you work your way up to the full size of a penis or dildo with a series of training plugs.”

This is going to be burned into my mind for eternity.

…

“Prom.”

“What?”

Okay, Noctis is looking at me really intently right now. It’s freaking me out.

“Dude, I’ve been calling you for like, five minutes,” he says incredulously, eyebrows furrowed. “You want my notes, right?” He’s holding out the Plan B Notebook and the pen.

I take the notebook. “I… can’t read this.” Noctis’ handwriting is like a dead chicken being dragged across ragged concrete.

“Right. Shit.” He takes it back, like the pregnancy test shaped pen doesn’t bother him. It probably doesn’t. “Seriously, though, what was with you?”

“Uh… Sorry. Must have zoned out.”

“Like you did during the entire meeting?”

Okay, he’s got me there. “Stuff has been going on, lately.”

“‘Stuff’? Does this mean you’re going to tell me about that selfie you sent last week?”

“Maybe later,” I insist. We’re approaching the station steps at last, having long-since passed from Galdin suburbs to Galdin downtown. Despite being nearly a mile from the beach, sand is strewn across the steps and up onto the platform. Stuff gets everywhere.

Noctis keeps going, and I’m only half listening at this point. “You keep saying that. Look, I don’t want to pry. I wasn’t going to at first, but you didn’t even share today. Whatever happened obviously bugs you.”

The train should be here.

“Prompto-”

“Just a second.” Turning to the schedule board at our backs, I peer along the fiberglass until I spot it – a bright pink sheet of printed paper labeled ‘Urgent.’ The words are faded; someone needs to change the toner. “Says here there’s been an accident on the tracks. They’ve got buses waiting down the street to take people to the usual locations, but all trips with arrival times within one hour of nightfall have been cancelled because of safety concerns.”

“So we’re just stuck here then,” Noctis drawls. He spins towards the exit, then turns sharply back, pacing to and fro before the board. “Great. No car, no money for a hotel, and no Quina or internet access to give us the number for Yellow Brick Road. We’re either going to freeze to death or get eaten by daemons.”

“You could call your attendants.”

“Gods, like I want them out here.”

“Noctis.”

He throws me a look, but even as he snaps, “I don’t want them here,” he’s reaching for his phone and tapping through his contacts. It isn’t long before he presses it severely to his face. He’s just in the worst mood, isn’t he? “Hey, Iggy, train’s down. Prompto and I don’t have money for a hotel and- _Okay, okay_ , slow down! I’m… _Yeah_. Yeah. We’ll head to the bridge in front of the Mother of Pearl. See you there in a few.” So he just hung up really violently and I’m kind of Concerned.

“Are you-” I wanna say alright but _wow_ , that is a _look_ and he is _pointing it at me_.

“Congrats. We’re not gonna die,” he says like it’s a bad thing.

It’s a five mile walk to the boardwalk. I figure some of the awkwardness should fade before then.

…

Mayday. Boardwalk is more awkward. Like… a lot more awkward.

It’s been half an hour. Noctis hasn’t said a _word_. And usually he’s pretty chatty when other people aren’t around. Especially when he isn’t on his phone, which is a given because the signal isn’t strong enough in Galdin for a proper internet connection. So we’re just sitting here. Silent. Listening to the waves of the ocean as it eases back and forth beneath us.

“Does this have to do with Jane?”

 _Gods… fucking… Noctis!_ “Can you just drop it?”

“She wasn’t at the meeting today and I think you know why.”

“Look, she doesn’t even _live_ in Galdin any more. She hasn’t been to meetings in weeks!”

“You’re acting suspicious.”

“Just _drop_ it, okay? She doesn’t even want anything to _do_ with me so just… _drop it_.”

“Did you come prematurely or something?”

Gods, just… Gah! I’m trying _really hard_ not to throw my phone right now. “No, I didn’t get off before she did,” I snap instead. “Neither of us got off! Her mom came home and apparently she could ignore the whole ‘hormone’ thing, but didn’t want to deal with her ‘Charles’ being ‘gay.’ And if you repeat _any_ of that you can consider this friendship _over_.” The threat feels like acid on my tongue, and for a second I’m proud of myself. Proud of the energy. Proud of the threat. Proud of putting my anger into something resembling words. But Noctis’ expression right now?

This isn’t what I wanted.

“Holy shit,” he says, eyebrows crumpled and jaw lax.

“Yeah.” All that fire is gone. I just feel… I feel empty, I guess. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“No, man. No – _I’m_ sorry. Shit. Shit, I…” His expression is soft, now.

This is the Noctis I like most.

“We’ve never really had anything like this happen before,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “I’ve never had any girlfriends, and you’ve never had anyone special either, and… Usually with us it’s just video games and me complaining about the reports Ignis has me read.”

“And P.E. class,” I add.

“And P.E. class,” he concurs, halfway to a laugh. His gentle smile is here. I wish I could bottle it and enjoy it whenever I wanted. “The thing I’m trying to get at is I should have known this was different because you weren’t your usual self. I should have respected when you said no. And I didn’t.”

Trust him to be a sap. I’m not crying. I’m not- shit, I’m crying.

His arms are around me, and he’s cooing like a chocobo and we’re just huddled on the bridge in front of Galdin Freaking Quay. People on the beach are looking at us oddly, but I’m pretty sure no one heard us.

Would that be a disaster or what? The city would be plastered with some ridiculous headline like, “Crown Prince Sidelined In Love: Is Our Ruler-To-Be Undergoing a Sex Change?” or something equally stupid. Probably with some stock photos of a hospital, a shot or two of us on the bridge, and then maybe an oddly angled one where we look like we’re making out. We’d be “The Royal Couple,” or something not nearly as tasteful. They’d probably tell everyone we’re both gay.

Noctis pulls away, collapsing against the railing with a sigh. “Anything else I should know before the entourage arrives and insists that coming to Galdin is unsafe and affords too many breaches in security?”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Well, I made out with the drag queen I sent you that selfie with.”

He looks about ready to vomit.

“What’s that look for?”

“Noctis!”

Guess the entourage is here, because that is definitely Gladiolus.

Noctis stumbles to his feet, looking to all the world like he’s ready to go, only for Gladiolus to immediately groan, “You don’t have to get up. We’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“Um… Why?”

Jerking a thumb behind him, the bulky teenager before us replies with a light and airy, “That’s why.”

That is a pretty intimidating cloud of smoke.

Noctis is off like a shot, sprinting down the bridge and toward the parking lot like his life depends on it. I’m just kinda… jogging along after him, I guess. Noctis is in a mood, and I’m just some normal human so I’m lagging far behind.

I’m not too far back that I can’t see Noctis’ expression when he freezes and the smoke clears. Though I can’t tell if he’s relieved because Ignis is okay or if it’s because they didn’t take the Regalia. It’d be kind of rude to ask right now, though.

I follow Noctis as he makes his way through the parking lot, squeezing between cars before eventually drawing up alongside the smoky mess Ignis is bent over. His hair is a frizzy mess, his cheek smeared with a touch of engine grease. All things considered, I’ve never seen him this filthy. Granted, I usually see him from a distance of twenty feet or greater – and even then, most of that consists of brown hair peeking through a car door – so I guess I’ve never really had a chance to appreciate his level of dishevelment before now.

“What happened?”

“Gladio decided that going 150 miles per hour was acceptable.”

Slapping a hand over his face, Noctis groans. “What’s the plan, then?”

Ignis, taking a first step back away from the smoking car, wipes at his forehead with one filthy gloved hand. A streak of what I assume is engine grease smears across his face. “Well, the internet doesn’t seem to be working on either of our phones so I can’t simply look up a local mechanic. I’m going to call the castle and they’ll send down a mechanic in the morning, provided the trains are running. If the trains are still down they’ll send a car and a tow. In the meantime, we’d best get ourselves checked into a hotel.”

Footsteps sound behind us. And that… would be Gladiolus. Did he _have_ to open his shirt? I get it, it’s hot out. But _really_? I mean, I’m not complaining. It’s a nice sight and all. But like… really? “The Quay’s all full up for the night. I’m going to check the caravan nearby, but the receptionist told me they’re having the same problem.”

“Do you have your camping gear in the trunk?”

“Different car.”

“ _Fuck_.”

And now everyone is looking at Ignis. Because _did he just swear?_ Ignis throws down the gloves and tangles his hands in his hair.

“Iggy, are you okay?” Noctis asks like it isn’t obvious.

The answer is apparently a foot kicking the bumper.

Shrinking away from the scene, I reach into my pocket for my phone. I open my messaging app and for a second I’m feeling that usual brand of “I am lame” because of the grand total of four conversations ever in the history of my phone.

Five if you include the login key from that blog I almost started but chickened out of at the last second.

Glancing over the screen I select the third chat – Cindy|Cidney – before poking at the phone button and pressing it to my ear. It rings twice before getting picked up.

_“Hey, Prom-Pom. How’s it hangin’?”_

“Hey Cidney. Feel like saving a life today?”

_“Do you mean literally or figuratively?”_

“Literally. The trains are down and Tess and I are stranded in Galdin. The Quay and the caravan are full so we have nowhere to take shelter.”

_“You can crash at my place, no problem.”_

“Actually, we need a tow. Tess’ friends came to pick us up but their car broke down. None of our phones are getting internet or we’d call someone closer.”

_“Are you calling me as a friend or as a mechanic? Because I charge.”_

“Yeah, I know. I’m calling you as a mechanic.”

_“Alright, then. We’re in business. I’ll head on down right now.”_

“Thanks Cidney.”

_“See you in twenty!”_

The call ends. I turn. It’s mayhem.

Ignis is still kicking the tire.

Noctis and Gladiolus are arguing about… _something_. It’s under their breath. They both look really angry.

The car, at least, has stopped smoking.

Shoving my phone in my pocket, I shout, “Hey guys, I got us a tow.”

And apparently no one was expecting this because they’re all staring at _me_ now.

…

Cidney is right on time and thank the _Gods_.

Ignis has just been stewing in the car this whole time. Gladiolus is jogging up and down the beach. Noctis spent the entire twenty minutes bent over the water staring at the fish. Me? I’ve just been awkwardly standing here wishing my apps would work. But they don’t. Because none of us have internet. Of course.

The tow truck parks before me as I wave it down, and out through the window comes Cidney. It’s not a day for buxom breasts and naked thighs. No – today’s he’s sporting a thick set of heavy mechanic overalls, chest obscured by a thick jacket and a tool belt strung over his shoulder that clicks the window as he leans out. “Hey, Prom-Pom,” he greets, voice light and airy. “Imagine seeing you here.”

“What are the chances?” I reply warmly.

He crawls back into the truck, then out the door he comes. It’s so weird to think I’m taller than him now. Puberty at last. “Thanks for coming.”

His arm is heavy as he nudges my side, and his laugh is sincere.

The others are headed over, finally, and Ignis is clearing his throat. “My thanks for being so prompt.”

“Oh, come on. What kind of person would I be if I left someone stranded to the daemons?” he snorts. “Besides, I don’t want to have to drive at night.”

Ignis extends his hand. “Ignis Scientia.”

Cidney takes it with a grin. “Cidney Aurum, Hammerhead mechanic.”

Apparently the name means something to Ignis ‘cause he hums, but other than that it’s mostly quiet. We all set about getting out of Cidney’s way so he can hook the tow up to the front of the car, and then I get to watch Gladio, Noctis, and Ignis squeeze in behind the seats as Cidney and I call the front.

“Does this count as that beach trip we kept promising over text but never got around to doing?” Cidney asks me as he eases us around a car abandoned beneath a streetlamp.

Wow, is he handsome.

“I don’t think it does,” I reply with a laugh.

…

Hammerhead, as Cidney has told me on many an occasion, is a little out of the way gas station his grandfather has set up shop in. “Best mechanic in the whole darn country,” he's insisted more than once.

I try to focus on this and not the Three Musketeers brooding in the backseat.

I fail.

Noctis has this sort of seething attitude whenever Ignis is within twenty feet. I've tried to ask about it, but it always dissolves into some long winded rant about how Ignis won't let him go to amusement parks or attend state functions with his dad. Something about visibility and anonymity. “Everyone knows who I am at school,” he's argued multiple times. “It's not a big deal there!”

 _Only because my very existence seems to make people give you a wide berth,_ I sometimes want to argue.

By the time we hop out of the car, Noctis looks rather… blue? In the face? Ignis looks like someone shoved a scorpion up his ass and Gladiolus…

Gladiolus looks fine, actually. Gladiolus looks like he knows something's going to happen and it's not going to involve him at all. And while that is suspiciously specific, it's kinda exactly what he looks like right now. At peace. At rest. I think I'm scared.

We're pulling into a gas station, now. There's a little restaurant – Takka’s Pit Stop – and a garage just to the right of the convenience store. Cidney puts us in park then opens his door. “Alrighty, everyone outta the truck.”

Grabbing at my door, I try not to literally fall out. That's pretty much what happens anyways but hey, I made an effort at least. We're all on the ground, now, and Noctis-

Noctis is pressing a finger firmly to his lips in the direction of an old man – Cid; Cidney introduced me once – sitting in a lawn chair by the garage. Cid laughs about something, then gets up and walks into the garage, waving in Noctis’ general direction. Am I missing something? I'm missing something.

I'll ask him later.

“There’s a caravan over yonder,” Cidney says to Ignis, waving his hand toward the small trailer beyond the gas pumps.

“Dibs on the top bunk,” Gladio says, already heading off towards the camper.

“About the payment,” Ignis begins.

“Nuh-uh. No money talk until I see the condition you’ve put that poor baby in. Tow is usually a flat fee, but I’ll cut you guys a deal since Prompto’s the one who called.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Good ol’ Ignis. Couldn’t pass for a commoner if he tried.

…

So.

Gladiolus snores.

I don’t even know what I was expecting. Did I think he was going to mewl like a kitten? Talk in his sleep? Grind his teeth? We’re on the top bunks across from each other – how I scored top bunk, I have no clue – and he’s just… snoring. Really loud. Kind of shaking the caravan.

And I think I really, really hate snoring.

Noctis and Ignis, however are quiet and-

“Iggy, outside. Now.”

“Is that why you were waiting for everyone to pass out?”

“Keep it down. Prompto’s a light sleeper.”

That I am.

“What does-”

“The _selfie_ , Ignis. The selfie Prompto sent me. We’re talking about it. Right now.”

What the hell? What does Ignis have to do with this?

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yeah. And if you don’t want me to wake _everyone up_ so we can have this conversation in front of both of them, you’ll follow me outside right now.”

What is going on?

There’s the shift of blankets, the blinding blast of a flashlight for a short second, and then the opening and closing of the caravan door. And wow, I really wish I were graceful right now because this ladder is a nightmare. But if I turn on my phone’s flashlight I might wake Gladio. Or alert them that I’m… what? Following them? Eavesdropping?

Spying. I’m full on spying. Which… considering the persons involved is technically _treason_ , but Noctis wouldn’t lock me up for something like that… would he?

I’m just… going to the bathroom. Yeah. And making sure no one hears me as I open the caravan door and kind of – and by kind of I mean literally – follow them behind Takka’s Pit Stop. I huddle between some boxes, and it’s _beginning oh Gods_.

Noctis’ words are a declaration. An instigation. A call to action and an accusation. “You kissed Prompto.”

“Wonderful. Are you going to sing a ditty, now?”

_What the shit?!_

“So you _admit it_.”

_What the actual shit?!_

Ignis sighs. It sounds so _bitter_ . So… _wow, he kissed me_. “I don’t believe you have any right to know what I do off shift.”

“You made out with my best friend! I didn’t… I didn’t even know you were _Queer_!”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

“Dude, I’m not going to get you _fired_.”

Not what I expected Noctis to say, but I guess it makes more sense than, “Come to a meeting,” I guess.

“How would I know that?” Ignis snaps. And _damn_ , he’s got some passion in him. Not that… I didn’t… apparently already know this? “How could I possibly know you weren’t going to _rightfully_ turn me in to your father? Homosexuals aren’t allowed to serve on the Crownsguard.”

 _Ignis_ **_is_ ** _Celeste, holy_ **_shit_ ** _._

“You’ve made our relationship rather clear over the last decade,” he’s continuing sharply, like Noctis doesn’t already probably feel like a pile of shit already. “You are my charge and I am the attendant you’ve made it clear you’d rather do without. You slip my watch whenever you can, sneak off with your friend Prompto into the night, have in your possession a falsified ID, and on regular occasion head off into Galdin doing who knows what for several hours before eventually coming home via the tube.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to lose your job,” Noctis hisses back. “You’re good at your job. That’s _why_ I don’t like you. Because you’re doing your job _well_ . I don’t want you _replaced_.”

This is far more drama than I signed up for. Granted, I am literally committing treason right now. What did I expect?

And now there’s just… silence.

A breath.

“So were you just going to lead him on? Lie about who you were and then leave him out to dry?”

“That’s hardly what happened.”

“I don’t know what happened. He won’t tell me.”

“Noctis, please drop this.”

“Why should I drop this?”

“Because I have a boyfriend.”

I think I just threw up in my mouth.

There’s this silence that follows, which I’m glad for because I’m kind of just… bent over. Drooling onto the ground. Trying not to throw up again.

“What?” Noctis. Incredulity. Surprise. Betrayal?

“I am in a relationship.”

“Then why…”

Why indeed.

“I was drunk, not that that’s an excuse,” Ignis begins almost lightly, like he hadn’t just admitted to making out with me – asking for my _consent_ – in a drunken fit. “My partner and I had agreed to go on a break. To see other people. That break is over, now. So forgive me if I decide to keep my distance from your friend from now on.”

“This is… heavy.”

Oh, Gods, I think I’m going to throw up again.

“Would you mind if we kept this between us?” That was Ignis.

Noctis is agreeing, now. Saying things like, “Yeah. Probably a good idea.” And yeah. Yeah, that would be a great idea. A fantastic idea. But now I know.

I don’t know how much time has passed. I’m pretty sure they’ve already left. The world sort of spins when I stand. Maybe I’ve been sitting too long. Either way the hand on my shoulder is nice and soft.

Oh god.

That’s… That’s Ignis.

“It’s impolite to eavesdrop,” he says, like I don’t already regret the last twenty minutes of my life. “Is this the part where I ask you to keep your distance?”

“You don’t have to ask.” The reply is already out, and the nausea seems to dissipate a bit as they hit the air.

Ignis’ expression doesn’t change. “You won’t hold it against him, will you?”

I blink. “Uh. What?”

“Noctis,” he repeats. “The promise he made me. I’m rather positive you overheard.”

I feel my eyebrows arch. “Dude, that’s a pretty good reason to lie to me,” I say, because it is and Noctis would never hurt me. I feel like telling Ignis as much, but he’s… looking at me differently.

I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at this way. Like he’s… impressed. Calculating. Unsure.

“He’s different around you,” he eventually manages.

“We’re friends,” I remind him.

“You’re a good influence.”

Is this banter? “Good to know you approve.”

“Oh, I definitely approve.” There’s this teeny little grin that lights up his eyes. And this – _this_ – is the woman I met at the bar. The woman with the beautiful smile and soft hands and…

“You weren’t lying, were you? When you kissed me?

And then he…

…

Ignis’ smile is something I think I could live for.

And that kind of fucks me up, but not as much as those words that keep me at the edge of the bed, unable to sleep, unable to _breathe_. Something so simple. Something so easy.

“I wasn’t.”

…

**Noctis and Cid: Early Morning**

“You look like you could use some coffee.”

Noctis glances up, eyeing the old man across the room. “I’m not a morning person.”

“Tess, right?”

Noctis stiffens.

“That’s what they’re calling you right now, isn’t it? You trans, kid?”

“No,” he denies softly. He collapses into one of the chairs at the edge of the garage. “Just an alias.”

“An alias for what?”

He shrugs.

“For hanging out with us Queers?”

“For taking my best friend to a support group,” is the heavy reply.

Leaning back in his chair, Cid breathes a sigh. His eyes slide around the garage before eventually settling on Cindy bent over the hood of a car in the distance. “You’re a better man than your father.”

Noctis startles, head flying up to stare at the old man as his eyes grew nostalgic.

“He didn’t ever want to hear about old Cid’s taste in men. ‘Stop shoving it in my face,’ he’d say before making some comment about some court lady. Guy needed a wakeup call, and apparently I wasn’t enough. Haven’t talked to him since he got married. She was too good for him; your mother.”

Noctis swallows.

Eyes turn on him. “You could be Insomnia’s wakeup call.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you _mean_ , what do I mean?” he drawls. Easing forward, he heaves a groan as he rises from his chair. Waving dismissively to Noctis, he took a careful step forward. “You’re next in line to be the King of Lucis. Think about it, kid. Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

Noctis watches him stagger from the garage and toward his granddaughter, muttering about monkey wrenches.

And for the first time in his life, Noctis thought about what he might do as King.


	4. Queer You On | Crownsguard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: Since Insomnia is based on Shibuya, I have carried that over into this story. Several things to keep in mind are that the Japanese school year ends in late March, drinking age is nineteen, and in some schools (mostly in the 90s to my knowledge) you are graded on a five point system – 5 being the highest, 1 being a failing grade.

“What if they disqualify me because I’m fat?” It’s a legitimate fear. People suck.

“They won’t. There’s no weight limit, anyways,” Noctis assures me for what must be the tenth time. Noctis does not suck. Noctis is wonderful and I don’t know what I’d do without him. “Just go in there, show them the guy that’s been hiding inside his hoodie since we were fourteen, and let them know you’re not afraid to throw me over your shoulder like a wet rag and carry my lazy ass to the nearest public bathroom.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down.”

“It was a good moment. Now get in there.”

He smacks my back and – I can do this. I can pass the exam. I can become a member of the Crownsguard. I’ve got my resume. I’ve got the letter of recommendation Noctis wrote me. I’ve passed the paper exam. Now all I’ve gotta do is show up and pass the physical exam.

What if they put me on a scale?

I hope they don’t.

Tryouts are in this local gym. Apparently the location changes every year and part of the exam is finding it. Noctis just kind of… told me the address. Is that cheating? I’m pretty sure that’s cheating. And it’s apparently time to pay attention because  _ is that Cor the Immortal _ ? Oh, Gods, it is. Cor the Immortal is sitting at a long white foldout table and he’s looking straight at me. And holding his hand out. And sitting behind a big pink piece of paper with “Check In” written on it in big blocky letters.

I walk up and say, “Hi, Cor,” like the dope that I am and hand him the resume.

His “Thank you” is curt at best as he takes it, scanning over the sheet with grim eyes. This has got to be the fifth time he’s looked at it by now. “You’ve just graduated from high school.”

“Uh, yeah. Just last week.”

“How’d you do in P.E.?”

“I, uh…” Gods, why? “I was passable, sir.”

“I wouldn’t consider a 2 passable.”

Oh.

Shit.

“I called your school.”

_ Fuck _ .

“It seems your classmates would exclude you from group activities, and you spent most days on the sidelines.”

“Y… Yes, I did, sir.”

“I’m not going to ask why – the reason is pretty clear from where I sit-” This dude is kind of a massive raging dick. “-but you should know the Crownsguard is a very tight-knit group. You’ll be expected to participate in every team building and training exercise. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.”

Cor gives me a look. It’s a… It’s a  _ weird _ look. Kinda sad, kinda pitiful, but also kind of disappointed. Like he doesn’t want to do what he’s about to do. But as he pulls the envelope out from behind my resume, the look falls into a frown. “What’s this?”

“A letter of recommendation, sir.”

“‘A letter of recommendation,’” he quotes lightly. He pats the envelope against the table before tearing open the side. His expression says nothing can save me.

The expression drops.

Noctis, what the  _ hell  _ did you put in that letter?

“Head to the track.” It’s almost like it hurts him to say it.

Well  _ haha _ , sucks to be him!

The gym is clearly marked, and when I get to the track Gladiolus of all people is there waiting for me. And, I’m happy to note, there is no scale to be seen.

“Good, you made it,” he says, motioning me over. “Ever wanted to be a pony?”

“Uh… No?” Is this a trick question?

“Well too bad.”

I mean, this does explain the mountain of sandbags behind him. “Do I have to carry those?” Please no pushups. Please.

“That’s right. You’ll be packing on as many of these sandbags as you can and running that track until you throw up, pass out, or drop one.”

I reach for one, but he holds up a hand, stopping me. “You’ll be running with the applicants that arrive in the next hour.”

“Am I early?”

“We’ve already had two rounds,” he says like he hasn’t been here for at least two hours. “We do this in waves.” He motions out to the track, and I have I mentioned this guy is  _ built _ ? A few years ago he was a bit of a bean pole, but wow. Muscles ‘R’ Us must be making a killing off this guy.

“So we run as a group.”

“Yeah. That way it’s clear who’s lagging.” He says this with a straight face, like he doesn’t expect me to fail horribly. Gaze flicking to my face, he looks at me for a long second after that; attention drifting from my chest to my face in an entirely professional capacity. “You’re a big guy, aren’t you? Got a hair-trigger on the weight gain?”

A nervous shrug is all he gets out of me. How am I supposed to even reply to that? Hi, I’m Prompto and I’m  _ fat _ ?

“If you get in, I’ll request you personally.” What? “Strength training would agree with you.” What. “You’ve got a good build for it already.”

Did he just… praise me?

Admittedly, I’m still reeling when more applicants arrive. All of them – there are six – are trim and well muscled. But as Gladiolus glances from applicant to applicant there is no warm smile. No look of modest appraisal; only boredom. His gaze shifts from neat six packs as many begin to strip their shirts and stretch. Which I guess is a good idea.

One of the ladies is really flexible. “Name’s Crowe,” she says with a smile when she catches me staring, hands clasped behind her back before arching forward to her front.

Gods, women are great. “I’m Prompto,” I reply. For once, I don’t feel lame. I almost feel… normal? Is that what people call this utter lack of nerves and nausea? Normal? What power.

“So, Prompto, what brings you to these tryouts?”

Huh? “What do you mean?

Her hands fly free, fingers placing quotes around a face clearly Galahdian. “Crownsguard,” she says dryly. “What makes you want to be a glorified babysitter bodyguarding the Prince?”

“I… never really thought about it.” The admission seems to confuse her, but I’m plenty confused myself. Do I want to be a Crownsguard? Do I want to give my life – my days, my nights, my free time – to this career fresh out of high school? Do I want to be trained within an inch of my life to protect Noctis until the day I die? No – not just Noctis. The Crown Prince of Lucis. Eventually, King.

“I want him safe.” The words are out before I can stop them. Before I can even think to myself how corny they are.

Crowe smiles at me like I’ve discovered something. Which I guess I have. “Good answer.” Her voice is firm, but warm. How do people sound so sincere? I want to bottle it.

“Alright, maggots, up and at it!” Maggots. Good gender-neutral term. Gladio’s voice is a bark, at best. It pierces the air like a fog horn. Dude’s  _ loud _ . “Grab as many sandbags as you can possibly run with, tie them on, and then  _ run  _ that  _ goddamn track _ .”

It’s like watching dominos topple. Everyone scrambles to the pile, tying the sacks to their person before booking it to the track. Meaning here I am carefully checking the knots and literally piling on as much as I can carry. It’s the eighth bag that I put down. I think for a moment. He said run. He didn’t say how long. Placing the eighth bag back with the others – I probably already have about 140 pounds on me; around Noctis’ weight, and I give him enough drunken piggy back rides that it’s not too much of a big deal – I head to the track.

Five loops in and everyone’s sacks are coming loose but mine.

“Adjust them while you run,” Gladio screeches. “You stop, you’re disqualified. You fall behind, you’re disqualified. You drop a sandbag, you’re disqualified.”

The first sack to hit the ground sounds so final, and it’s hard to believe it doesn’t belong to me. I’m not being kicked. I’m still in.

Wow.

The others are falling behind, now, and I draw even with Crowe as she struggles to retie one of her sandbags to her stomach. “Need help?”

Her head flies around, ponytail flipping around her face. “What?” She doesn’t sound winded at all. How much is that bag bothering her if she's slowing down?

“Hold it to your stomach and I’ll tie it,” I offer. I hope she doesn't think I have an ulterior motive in this. I mean, a lot of guys are creeps and she'd be right to shut me down, but I really hope she accepts. If I pass, it'd be nice to have someone else in the guard who smiles at me the way... she is right now.

“You should focus on yourself,” she insists around a laugh.

“Crownsguard are supposed to watch each other's backs, right?” Am I pushing? “Besides, you seem cool. And I'm  _ not  _ hitting on you.“

She snorts at this. “All right. You know what? Fine. I'll hold the sandbag, you tie the straps.” Standing a bit straighter, she pushes the weight fully into her stomach, elbows drawing away to allow the straps to flap freely as we run.

I reach for them quickly, tying a modest double knot before stepping away. “Done.” A thumbs-up is flashed her way.

“You're sweet,” she says, testing the sack before letting it go with a grin. It flops against her stomach with each step.

“Why do you want to be in the Crownsguard?” The question hangs between us.

Even though she'd asked me the question a good ten minutes ago, Crowe look startled. “I've... always wanted it. “

“The job?”

“It's more than a job,” she answers heavily. “It's a family. It's a literal army of men and women who will have your back.”

Okay, now I'm confused. That's the Kingsglaive, right? Why is she auditioning for the Crownsguard when she wants to be in the elite army? Do they permit reassignment that freely? I should probably know more about the job I'm trying out for, now that I think on it. 

Time passes. We jog along. More applicants arrive. We're still jogging. Crowe doesn't look winded at all. I think I'm going to throw up. How long has it even been? Is this mental torture?

“Okay, stop!”

So the world is spinning but it isn't, really. I'm just on the ground. Everything is so... bright. Was it always this bright? A shoe digs into my side.

Gladiolus’ face towers far above, blocking out the sun. “Hit the showers, kid.”

…

Where... is everyone?

The locker rooms are barren. There are no people. No discarded towels. No shower left running to fill the empty silence. I couldn't have been the last guy... right?

But maybe I am.

Maybe, along with Crowe, I lasted long enough.

Does that mean I'm good enough?

Now that's a thought. I'm... I'm good enough.

Huh.

That has a nice ring to it.

The shower water is taking forever to warm up. I'm hopping between the tiles like they'll be any less cold when I come back to them. (They aren't.) But as the water begins to steam and I step into the spray, there's the creak of an opening door in the distance. Footsteps, then… a voice.

“I've heard you've passed the physical.”

Ignis.

My eye’s fixed on the faucet. This can't be happening. “Uh, yeah.” Puberty. I thought you were done. Why the squeaking? “I don't think I've run that long in my entire life.”

A chuckle. Despite the warmth in his tone, though, there's this  _ edge _ . “That'll be quick to change. I've heard Gladiolus has requested to be your trainer. He's quite fond of early morning jogs and is famous for his crack of dawn calisthenics. You won't have it easy with him.”

“Crownsguard isn't supposed to be easy,” I fire back, feeling bold. Rinsing myself off quickly, I twist the water off and reach for my towel. Still, I don't turn around. I don't want to see him, yet. We’re going to work together a lot after this, and if he even smiles at me I feel like I'm going to fall for him all over again.

“I'll tell Cor you said that. If it weren't for Noctis’ little note he might not have let you in at all. He might have a bit more confidence knowing how serious you are about this.”

“It's because I'm fat, isn't it?”

“What?”

“The reason he didn't want me back here. It's because I'm fat, isn't it?”

“I must confess, I don't know his reasons.”

Maybe I should give Cor more credit. But I'd rather be petty for a few more hours. “What was in that letter, anyways?”

Ignis snorts. “The words ‘I won’t ditch him,’ followed by his Royal Seal.”

That sounds exactly like something Noctis would do.

“You have slipped Gladiolus’ and my attentions enough to warrant our jobs if they hadn’t attempted to replace us and learned the hard way.”

“They tried to replace you?”

“Recall that camping trip you both went on during summer break your junior year?”

“Yeah?”

“He never asked permission. They hadn't figured out where he'd gone until he was back 4 days later.”

“You're kidding.”

“I'm very far from joking right now.” His reply is firm but light. “It was briefly believed he had magic powers akin to teleportation, but we both know that's nonsense.”

That's certainly a funny image;  Ignis and Gladiolus sitting around and honestly debating whether or not Noctis could teleport. They probably didn't have tin foil hats, but that's what I'm imagining. And they're huddled beneath the desk. A big one. There is a blanket. I wonder if they got catering. And apparently I'm zoned out too long because I've turned around and-

Gods.

The way Ignis is looking at me right now is... I can't even describe it. There's warmth and regret and appraisal and something I'm pretty sure is desire. His bottom lip is pinched between his teeth. Green eyes trail up my chest. As he meets my gaze with his, the expression mellows. “Do you have any plans for the evening?” His voice doesn't sound like anything. There is no emotion beyond mild interest, but his eyes tell a different story.

“Probably going to celebrate with Noctis,” I replied, like I'm not tearing myself to pieces inside. My stomach feels like a stomping ground. Then, like I'm not a total dweeb, I ask, “You?”

He falters for a moment, as if he's got a reply ready only to realize it's the wrong answer. “I-” A gasp worms around the word as he physically redirects. “Gladiolus and I are headed out.”

I nod along like my chest isn't splitting open. “Cool. That sounds cool. I hope you have fun.”

“Same to you,” he says. Then he moves aside as if encouraging me to head into the locker room... put on... my clothes. 

Right. Now that my cheeks are the color of a freshly blended rose, I'm moving back into the locker room. Forget lightning bolts. I need the ground to open wide and swallow me whole.

A hand winds around my wrist.

I turn.

Straight into my eyes, and wow how have I not melted into a puddle of goo yet? “Do-” He's doing a lot of the abandoned sentence thing, which would make more sense if I were in better shape. Granted, he did say I was his type.

You know. Two years ago. Before getting back together with his ex. Thanks for that little ego bait-and-switch. I mean, I get it. There's probably a lot of circumstances I'm obviously not involved in and cannot fathom. Doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

“Welcome to the Crownsguard,” he says like it isn't at all what he wants to say. The hand he's got wrapped around my wrist falls away. His expression is tight.

Turning away is hard. For a second my feet don't even move. But after a moment of internal torment - ask him if he's single; touch his cheek and thank him; do  _ something _ – I step further into the locker room, moving far out of his line of sight before I begin to dry off.

From the exit comes the creak of the door, and now I’m alone.

…

It’s a relief to get out of the locker room. It’s so… humid. But as I step out, across from me is Crowe, standing and laughing with a man in Kingsglaive fatigues.

She, too, is in Kingsglaive fatigues.

I can’t help the smile on my face as I step up. Am I developing bravery? I think I am. “I was hoping you’d make it. Good to know you already have.”

And she’s got this  _ laugh _ . “That’s one way to react to a mole.” She motions to the man beside her – tall, muscular. He’s turning to face me, now. “Nyx, this is Prompto.”

Fuck me sideways, please and  _ thank you _ . Bless his face. Bless his lopsided smirk. Bless everything about this man, including his sex life. Not that he could possibly need the help. Bless his lips. Bless his dick. Bless that lightly peeling tan. Bless that goddamn mole sitting just right on his face and just bless him. Bless his existence.

Dude is  _ pretty _ .

His hand is  _ huge _ and so are my thoughts. “Nice to meet you,” he says boldly. “Nyx Ulric.”

I shake his hand, feigning something I feel might resemble cockiness more than anything else. “Prompto Argentum.” His grip is- wow, down boy.

“Nice meeting you,” Crowe says, and they leave and thank the Gods because shit was about to get embarrassing for everyone.

…

Noctis is late.

Ever since we graduated he's been late to just about everything. Granted, we don't follow each other straight from school to the arcade to the bar anymore. And boy, would his dad throw a fit if he knew Noct just had a fake ID.

We'd agreed to meet at a club - one particularly famous for not checking IDs at the door. The lights are bright on the dance floor, so I'm huddled by the bar, sipping from a Moogle Mudpie. The peanut butter cup is half gone - it's best enjoyed between sips, I've learned - and occasionally pulling out my phone. I've checked my messages at least 10 times in the last minute, firing off the occasional text to Noctis - where are you? I'm by the bar. Getting a drink. - and trying not to get tipsy before he arrives.

When I finish the drink, he's still not here. I wonder what could be holding him up. That anxious voice in my stomach whispering, “He doesn't want to be your friend anymore,” is quickly shoved aside. One of his trainers probably caught him in a hall and asked him to give them 200 or something.

The club, as it turns out, has a tiny little arcade in one of the corners. A Pac-Man machine sits between Galaga and one of those generic Shooters. “Time Crisis” it says. There are pinball machines, too, but I've never had much love for those. Those are more Noctis’ thing. The neon lights look subdued when compared to the club. A few bodies are clustered around the Time Crisis game as I pass by, and as I draw beside the Pac-Man machine, the large purple blob of a silk shirt turns my way and-

Gladiolus? 

We both freeze. His expression is... What an expression. It's like he's been pinned to a wall. A cornered rabbit. But if Gladiolus is here-

Ignis approaches with a slight teeter, his shirt open and a cocktail in his hand. His chest is smeared with body glitter, glistening beneath the strobes. Rainbow suspenders framing the bare skin like the sleeping and waking bookends on a wet dream, barely keeping the leopard print shirt on him at all.

And then there are the Metallic.

Gold.

Spanky pants.

_ Damn _ , his legs are hairy.

He looks me dead in the eye, lifts his salty, umbrellaed drink, and greets me with an even, “Prompto, hello.” That is shiny lip gloss. That is  _ very  _ shiny purple lip gloss.

“Hi.” No squeaking. Good. Now, if I could keep my eyes on his face instead of on his chest that would be great.

“Where is Noctis? Aren't you both usually fused at the hip?” He makes a show of glancing around using his drink to shade his eyes as he scans the club.

Gladiolus doesn't move. Not even when Ignis drapes an arm over his shoulder and lays his entire weight against his side.

“He'll be here soon.” It's more for my encouragement than anything. “He's just a little late.”

“Ah. Yes. Cor’s probably keeping the poor boy after for drills, again.” Ignis sighs. He nudges Gladiolus with an arm, smirking. “What’s got you so stiff, mountain goat?”

Mountain goat?

Gladiolus shrugs. “I’m just not too eager to run into my boss at a gay club.”

“He’s already meeting Prompto in one. He likely doesn’t care.”

“Yeah, straight people always  _ say _ that, but-”

“Don’t be a cock. Give him at least  _ some _ benefit of the doubt.”

“Yeah, well, neither of us have really seen enough benefit  _ for _ that doubt.”

“Yes, but neither of us have been fired yet so it hasn’t gotten as bad as you make it out to be.”

Well that was a roller coaster of a conversation.

Ignis turns back to me, lips twisting in some half-drunk smile. His breath smells like vodka. “I hope he arrives soon. Wouldn’t want him to cock up your night.” Leaning further against Gladiolus’ side, he takes a slow sip of the drink in his hand before licking up some of the salt.

I bite my lip, glancing between them. “So, uh… How long have you guys been…” Wow, I’m awkward. Where did all that aplomb go from earlier? I could certainly use a bit right now.

There’s the click of a tongue, and Ignis laughs. “Fuck, no,” he spits amusedly. “Gladio’s so Ace his bunghole might as well be a tight wad of razors.”

Well, that was graphic.

Gladiolus looks inordinately pleased.

“In fact,” he continues brightly, “we’re actually out tonight because my ex and I decided to call it.”

The snort that follows is bitter at best. “If you can even  _ call _ him that,” comes a snappy comment. “You spent more time on breaks than you did actually together.”

“Details.” A hand waves dismissively – is that neon green nail polish? It is – before Ignis eases away to stand on his own. “Besides, this means I can approach Prompto here without feeling a bit creep.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Gladiolus drawls like it isn’t obvious.

A hand is flapped. “Oh, tosh. I’ve barely had three.” He turns to me like he’s seeing me for the first time, eyes narrowing. “You know, your ensemble is really missing something?”

Oh? It’s missing something? How could my ill-fitting shirt, overlarge jacket, and poorly shaped jeans  _ possibly _ be in possession of something resembling style enough to be  _ missing _ something? Just… I’m  _ poor _ , dude. The only place that stocks things in my size in Insomnia are maternity stores.

Yeah. Maternity. I got my clothes  _ online _ . And you can’t try stuff out online. It’d be nice to own something black, or studded, or just… something  _ cool _ , but I’m  _ poor _ and that’s not really… Why is he waving a stick at me? Is that mascara? What do I know? I don’t wear makeup.

“Do you mind?” he asks.

“Does it wipe off easy?” I shoot back. Where did he even get that? His Metallic Gold Spanky Pants (all caps – this is burned into my brain, now) don’t seem to have any pockets.

“I’ve got a cleanser, if you decide you don’t like it.”

Where?

“It’s eyeliner, if you were wondering.”

For a moment I just… stare at it. The stick is black. His fingernails are green. His eyes bore into me and… fuck it. “Sure.” In my back pocket, my phone buzzes. Noctis kept me waiting for an hour. He can wait for… however long this takes.

“Look up,” he says, and leans close and maybe I could get used to this?

Scratch that. This shit is gross. Why do people put up with it? It feels like he’s stabbing my eye. “Beauty is pain,” they say. Beauty is bullshit. It’s nice to look at beautiful people, but it’s less nice now that I know it involves  _ this _ . And where did Ignis get that goddamn mirror? Seriously,  _ where _ ? And…

Oh.

Is that… Is that my face? It’s just eyeliner but… wow. He puts the mirror away. My phone buzzes again. Pulling it out, I eye the messages with open surprise.

Apparently I’ve missed six texts, not two.

_ Sorry, sorry, Cor caught me. Headed to the club now. _

_ This train ride feels longer than it should and it’s only been three minutes. Someone was arrested at a stop for trying to grab a schoolgirl. That was freaky. _

_ Some old lady’s looking at me weird so I’m going to keep texting you. _

_ Did you meet someone at the bar or something? Don’t get drunk without me. _

_ I’m here. Where are you? _

_ Hello? _

My reply is quick – a short, “Arcade in back,” – and it earns me a laugh.

“Your prince has arrived I take it,” Ignis drawls.

I look at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks and the slouch to his stance, then to the now empty drink in his hand. He should be far too drunk to make a joke that layered.

“What do you strapping young men have planned?”

Gladiolus doesn’t look happy with this question. He shifts from foot to foot, eyes turning to the rest of the club.

I bite my lip as I look away from him. There is history here. History I’m not privy too. There’s probably story upon story that I will never get to hear about, and it’s really not my place to ask. Whatever happens is just going to have to happen. “Not much,” I reply like I haven’t just had this internal weighing of consequences. “We were hoping to just get a few drinks. Maybe see about hitting the dance floor.”

“You should come with us.”

Gladiolus’ flinch is a full-body affair. I think his hair even curls a little.

I know he saw it, but he just keeps going. “After I finish this drink, Gladio and I were going to pop on down to Splatter just up the road. Have you been?”

“No, I haven’t.” I really hope Gladiolus doesn’t hate me after this. He  _ did _ say he would be training me. Oh, Gods, I’m about to go out to a paint rave with my boss, aren’t I?

“You should come with us.” How drunk is he? “Otherwise Gladio here will be listening to my drunk self bitch all night all on his lonesome.”

“Am I missing something?”

And that would be Noctis in a really baggy T-shirt and some skinny jeans. His hair is an absolute mess. He must have made a real effort to dress nice and “trendy” tonight because it looks like an awkward twelve year old wearing his big brother’s clothes. Ignis obviously had nothing to do with the purchase of anything even vaguely touching Noctis’ body right now.

“Big brother is watching,” he sometimes likes to joke. “Big brother is watching you buy clothes, to be exact. Like, dude needs a personal life.”

Apparently dude has a personal life.

And it involves body glitter.

Which Noctis can’t seem to figure out right now. It’s like he’s gone into bluescreen. All he needs to do now is turn his head sideways because he’s got that frown.

Gladiolus looks like he’s about ready to bluescreen himself. Either that or he’s in the middle of rebooting from one.

“Dude, that’s your  _ uniform _ ,” Noctis bursts suddenly, motioning to Ignis’ open shirt. “How do you even  _ begin _ to get glitter out of that? I’m still picking glitter out of my shirt from last  _ month _ .”

Distress. Shock. Surprise. Pleasant amusement. Denial. Betrayal. Despair. Acceptance. So many expressions flit across Gladiolus’ face in that last half second that  _ I _ have whiplash. Now there’s this pleasant little thing that resembles a smile if you squint.

“A small vacuum and packing tape. Would you and Prompto like to join Gladiolus and myself for a round of drinks before continuing up to Splatter?”

Does Ignis really need another drink? I mean, he said he just broke up with his boyfriend, but still. But wait, if he’s broken up with… Oh. Shit.  _ Fuck _ . I can’t– no. No, no, no. Dont… Just…

Ignis is single.

“The paint rave place?” Noctis’ words are like a literal fucking spear to my face. Expression uneasy, he turns to me like I have something resembling authority right now. “It’s your night. Do  _ you _ want to go?”

Ignis is  _ single _ . “I kind of really do.” I kinda really don’t know what a paint rave is.

“Are you wearing eyeliner?”

Here’s hoping my shrug comes across as light and silly and not ‘I’m seriously praying I lose my virginity tonight but I’m also super worried because we’re going to be coworkers.’ “Ignis gave me some.”

Noctis’ nod is firm, as is his expression. “Looks good. I am  _ definitely _ missing something there.”

“Your celebration of Prompto’s new job has collided with my status of newly single,” Ignis says, then angles his drink in the direction of the bar before setting towards it with long-legged stride.

Gladiolus – still a pile of awkward, wow – kind of half waddles after him like a nervous penguin.

It is at this point that Noctis, who knows the whole story – including the fact that I know the whole story because I tell this man everything – turns to me, grabs my cheeks, and leans in with big eyes to say in an entirely serious voice, “He’s single.”

…

We’re admittedly a few drinks further in than I think anyone planned when we arrive at Splatter. The walls are splashed with paint and sealed in this thick coat of what I can only assume is… Uh. Don’t look at me. I’m not a contractor. I don’t know this stuff. It’s clear and thick, whatever. It looks cool.

The coat check is surprisingly neat and paint free, and when they give us our numbers to shove in our pockets to collect our things I’m feeling particularly brave. I’m down to my shirt and pants. So is Noctis. Ignis-

Spanky pants and suspenders.

That’s it.

Gladiolus isn’t much better, considering he’s down to some jeans that look like they cost more than my entire wardrobe, but  _ Metallic Gold Spanky Pants and Rainbow Suspenders _ . The body glitter is on full display, shining against Ignis’ muscled chest as a strobe glances off it and stabs me in the eye.

Noctis, by comparison, has yet to take a single article of clothing off. Sometimes I think he’s more conscious about his body than I am. It’s not like he’s difficult to look at. He’s got this really twisted scar pattern across his back from an accident as a kid and the extensive surgeries that followed, but aside from that he’s your standard pale twig. It’s nice to know skinny people are self-conscious, too.

“To the pit!” Ignis cries as we head out of the coat check, and how drunk is he? Really?

There’s this music that’s blasting my ears out when we finally descend into “The Pit.” Mostly to drown out the drums they’ve got against every wall, I’m assuming. There are people everywhere, and at least four jars of paint for each drum.

Gladiolus is beside me, now. His hand settles on my shoulder and he looks me in the eye like he’s my father or something. Which I guess isn’t too bad. “It’s washable and nontoxic,” are his first words, leaning in to speak as close to my ear as he can without breaking eye contact. I can still barely hear him. “You can grab paint and drum, paint each other, paint yourself, or paint a wall. Whatever you write, it’s getting washed away at the end of the night. If you do something the cleaning crew really likes, though, sometimes they’ll take photos of it and frame it in the lounge in back.”

He’s got this smile on his face, and as he pulls away and motions to the padded drumsticks settled on one of the free drums, I can’t help but think this is his thing, not Ignis’.

Except maybe it is Ignis’ thing because he’s across the room drumming like a fucking maniac, paint flying and half screaming to the music. This is not what I expected to see when I said we should join them. This is very far from what I had expected to see.

Noctis pokes my face with a padded end of one of the sticks, and there’s a cold, wet sensation. Have I been painted? I’ve been painted. The entire front of his shirt is streaked with yellow, and there’s a splash of red on his cheek.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” he says back.

This all feels pretty random.

“This is pretty satisfying,” Noctis continues, turning to watch Ignis as he steps up to Gladiolus – spattered from head to toe in a fine mist of blue – and begins to paint the outline of his abdominals red.

“How drunk are you?” Gladiolus snorts.

“Very,” Ignis replies dryly. “Very.” Standing back to admire his handiwork, he nods approvingly.

There’s another stick in my face, now. I have no idea what colors they’re smearing. Gladiolus pulls it away quicker than I can see it, and then Noctis is back and…

Oh.

Oh, it is  _ on _ .

…

It is apparently off because Noctis is throwing up, now.

“What demonic asshole decided pizza and beer was a good combo?” he whines into the porcelain.

“Do you want to go home?” I ask, sliding my hand down his back. At some point he lost his shirt. I don’t know what that point is, but his scar is on full display and he doesn’t care that I am petting it and I am taking full advantage. Sorry, Noctis, but your scar is really soft and I like it.

“Dude, it’s  _ your _ night. I don’t want to ruin it.” He’s getting close to the sappy voice, but there’s a hint of tears in there.

“The only way you could ruin it is by getting sicker. Finish up and we’ll head home, okay?” Honestly? I don’t want to go home. This is the most fun I think I’ve had ever. The last time Noctis and I had people with us while we were hanging out was when we ran into Jane, and…

Well, there goes that good mood.

World spinning around my head as I rise, I slap my hand to the cold metal of the stall. What’s even going on? I’m eighteen, halfway to wasted at a paint rave while Noctis vomits pizza and beer into a toilet. When did my life get like this?

But it’s not even that  _ bad _ . I’ve been accepted into the elite personal guard of the royal family. I’m hanging out with my best friend. I’ve got everything I need and I don’t need to worry about the future.

Then why do I feel like such an irresponsible piece of  _ shit _ right now?

“You okay man?” Noctis is looking at me, gaze unsteady, vomit on his chin, and I just don’t think I can deal right now.

I can’t. “We should probably call it a night.”

“Dude, if you go to bed now you’re just going to stew in a bad mood for days. I know you.” He does. He really does, and that’s part of what scares me.

I don’t like this life. I don’t like me. I don’t like that we’re huddling beside a toilet in some public bathroom with fake IDs when we should be… I don’t know. Reading? Asleep? Playing video games? Why don’t we do that stuff more? We get drunk a lot for a pair of eighteen year olds. We should talk about girls and go to more arcades and I should want to actually lose the weight – so why don’t we? Why aren’t we just…

Normal?

No, I don’t want to be normal.

So maybe… Maybe I’m okay being me? I don’t know.

“You do not look good.” Gladiolus is pushing the door open, staring down at Noctis with a grimace. Behind him is…

Ignis.

“I’m headed home anyways.” He’s still speaking, oh god. He’s not- “Your place is on the way to mine, Noctis. I’ll call a taxi and we’ll get you settled, okay?”

He’s nodding along, wiping at his chin with a bit of toilet paper, and that feeling’s back in the base of my stomach. That feeling of not belonging. That feeling that maybe something is going wrong with my entire life.

When Noctis reaches for me I help him up. I feel like a total failure right now. I’m supposed to protect this guy. How am I supposed to do that when I get him drunk to the point where he throws up?

And maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s the problem.

Gladiolus helps him out of the bathroom.

“I don’t know about you,” Ignis begins softly, voice impossibly loud in the dimly lit bathroom, “but I could use a stiff drink right about now.”

…

The ride up to Ignis’ floor in the elevator is far longer and far more awkward than it should be. He’s practically half naked and at one point I started to shiver. I never did put my jacket back on. I’m too afraid of getting paint on it. My clothes are already a lost cause. Gladiolus said it was washable, right? I’m not exactly a laundry ninja.

But it’s hard to focus on my ruined clothes now that the doors are opening and Ignis is stepping out into a long hallway. Wow, this place is fancy. They even have art on the walls. This place must be expensive. Wait… Do the Crownsguard make a lot of money? I… I never even  _ thought _ about that. Would I have enough to get a  _ car _ ? Now that’s a startling thought.

I could get a camera.

I could get a  _ real camera _ .

Now there’s a thought.

Ignis unlocks his door with a code – wow – and now we’re stepping into his apartment for real. There’s wood furniture – real wood, not pressed wood – and a large, elegant couch and a wide TV mounted on the wall.

“I’m going to fix us something to eat before we break out the hard stuff,” Ignis says, like I can handle the hard stuff. But maybe I can, now. “Up for a round of shots?”

“What are we drinking?” I ask, like I care or even know the difference. I’ve just been doing mixed drinks for the last two years now, courtesy of one Ignis Scientia.

“Vodka.”

“Count me in.” Proper shots are new. This should be good.

…

This is not good. This stuff is like… How do you even describe it? It’s  _ fire _ . It’s  _ brimstone _ . It’s a  _ nightmare _ . “Why do people  _ drink _ this?” I’m trying not to spit.

Ignis just laughs. “It gets you drunk rather quickly,” he tells me, like that makes it any better. He’s starting to slur his words. It’s kind of cute.

Gods, why are we even alone?

He takes another shot, and the situation feels even sharper. “Come on, your turn.”

The bottle hangs over my glass, shaking until I reach out and steady his hand. “Maybe we should call it a night,” I suggest.

He looks up.

Our gazes meet.

Fuck.

We set the bottle down.

My heart is hammering a mile a minute. It’s hard to think. It’s hard to do much of anything right now. What am I supposed to do? Gods, I’m a mess.

But he’s looking at me like he can’t think of anything else. Like I’m the world.

I pull my hand away and the bottle of vodka clatters to the counter, cracking soundly.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Ignis shouts, leaping away from the alcohol that spills suddenly over the counter.

Can I feel any worse? “I need to go,” I say, because I do. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of these fancy apartments and away from all this alcohol and I certainly need to get away from Ignis before something  _ happens _ and then…

And then he just  _ leaves _ again.

But he’s shaking his head and stepping off of his stool, now. He staggers around the island toward me, mouth wide open as he reaches for my face.

My first instinct is the pull away, but I’m drunk and he’s a trained killer so I guess i never stood a chance. His hands are on my cheeks. His eyes are boring into mine. I don’t think I can do this.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers and I feel like throwing up.

“How do I know you won’t leave?” I shoot back.

His face crumples.

What have I done?

What am I doing?

Why am I pushing him away?

I don’t deserve him.

I fucked up.

But apparently he doesn’t care because his eyes are scrunched up, his fingers clench in my shirt, and his lips are pressing sharp to mine. He smells like alcohol. When we open our mouths he tastes like vodka and a hint of lime.

I guess I must, too.

He’s pushing me down the hall, now, and I’m powerless to stop him. I let myself be led. Let myself be kissed even as my stomach churns and my legs wobble.

This is a mistake.

Or maybe it’s not, because even as we fall through a doorway and onto a large bed, his hands fisting tight in the fabric of my shirt, he’s whispering, “Nothing we can regret until we’re sober,” breath smelling so strongly of vodka I feel like I’ve already got a hangover.

He passes out after about half an hour of making out, and I’m just… awake. Playing with his hair. I almost can’t believe it, but it’s still so messed up. We’re laying beside each other on a large bed in his fancy, shiny apartment, still covered in paint, and I’m playing with his hair. I should be happy. I should be over the goddamn moon.

But I’m just scared.

…

**Noctis and Gladiolus: Noctis’ Apartment**

Fingers holding long strands out of Noctis’ face, Gladiolus pats his back as another heavy hurl sounds through the room, wracking the body at his side. “Don’t fight it,” he advises softly. “That’ll only make it worse.”

A wet, projectile round follows.

“Let it all out.”

It’s a while before Noctis can lean away from the toilet, wiping at his mouth with a damp rag and spitting angrily into the bowl. He flushes it with a vengeance, making a point not to look at the mess. “You didn’t have to go this far, you know,” he insists dryly. “You could have just left me on my doorstep.”

“I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“You don’t need to do your job  _ all the time _ .”

“I wasn’t out with you as your bodyguard tonight. I was out as your friend.”

He looks up sharply, lips pursing at the wave of nausea that follows the movement. “Friend?”

Running a hand nervously through his hair, Gladiolus shrugs. “Yeah. I don’t know. We’ve spent so long at each other’s throats it was nice to kick back and break a few rules with you. Even if you ate too much pizza and jumped around until you got sick.”

Despite himself, Noctis laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, that was pretty fun.”

“I’m Asexual, Noct.”

Noctis looks up at this. Takes in the grim expression and the tight lips and the hair mussed from nervous fingers dragging through it time and time again. “Thanks for trusting me with that, Gladiolus.”

“You can call me Gladio.”

“Okay. Gladio.”


	5. Come and Get Your Love | "The Good Ol' Days"

Going by the alarm clock it’s around five in the morning.

Pretty sure I slept with my contacts in.

My mouth tastes like death.

And Ignis?

Ignis isn’t here.

I knew this was coming, but it’s still a punch to the gut. I don’t know if I can give him the benefit of the doubt. He isn’t Noctis. No one is Noctis. Why did I let this happen? I should know better by now. I…

Is that a toilet?

Practically falling out of the bed, I rush to the bedroom door, peeking out into the hall and watching  in utter and complete shock as the bathroom door opens wide and Ignis steps out into the hall. The look on my face must be priceless right now.

“Morning,” he greets, squinting curiously at me in the dim light. “I see you’re up and about. In the mood for breakfast?”

“Got any mouth wash?” I find myself asking, reaching immediately to pop my contacts out. My vision isn’t horrible, but I’ll get a headache if I go too long without my glasses after this.

He motions for me to step in after him, pushing the door open further. We’re both still in our paint-spattered clothes. Me more so than him, if only because he’s down to his Metallic Gold Spanky Pants again. I think I really like those.

He hands me a bottle and a small disposable cup, and as soon as I’m done rinsing my mouth – spitting and feeling something resembling cleanliness on my tongue – I don’t know what comes over me. Bottle dropping from my hands onto the counter, my fingers slide into his hair. He meets me halfway and… wow.

Wow.

His fingers are bunched in the collar of my shirt, dragging me up as he bends forward just slightly to press our lips firmly together. There’s no hint of vodka on his tongue. No trace of hesitation as his hips draw close to mine, crowding me against the wall. There’s nothing but conviction in his hands as they find my wrists. As they drew my grasp away from his cheeks and down, down, down… Gods, but his ass is firm. Is this the first butt I’ve touched? Pretty sure it is.

Lips breaking from mine, Ignis manages a gasped, “Want to do something entirely sober?”

For the love of the Six; it’s happening.

I’m maybe a bit… overeager? I kind of literally just… lift him up by his ass, pretty much run to the bed, and plop him right there on the blankets. 

And maybe that was the right thing to do because this look? He’s giving me this look? Like he’s super turned on and he’s  _ reaching for me _ . His hands grab at my shirt, and I think he’s trying to remove it.

I pull back and pretty much rip it off, and there’s this  _ groan _ that pierces the air. I’m not sure if it’s me or him. But now his hands are back and I’m crawling on top and  _ fuck _ we’re grinding. It’s mindless. Intense. I don’t know if I can keep this up. And as his mouth clamps on top of mine, biting my bottom lip roughly, I reach up on instinct and grip him by the hair, pulling his head into an angle.

Groan piercing the relative silence, Ignis arches as my hand tugs at his scalp. “Yes, please, be as rough as you’d like.” His tone is throaty and sincere against my lips. Practically desperate.

Have I been rough? I… I have no way of knowing. Should I tone it down a little? I mean, I did just pull his hair. I feel like a six year old tugging the hair of the boy I like. Didn’t expect him to  _ like _ it, but still.

His eyes open, staring blearily up at me in confusion. “Is everything alright?”

My hands are motioning oddly between us as I pull away. Did I pause too long? Did I make a face? Or maybe he’s just good at reading people. “I’ve just never…” I trail off because my voice sounds like someone strangled it. Clearing my throat, I attempt again. “I’ve just never done this before?”

Ignis blinks. “You’ve never been invited to be rough?”

Gods. Don’t make me say it out loud.

But his face twists and he’s biting his lip. There’s this flush high in his cheeks. “Oh,” he says, and I think he gets it. Then, again, “ _ Oh _ .” He’s leaning up, now, arms sliding around my shoulders. His mouth brushes the curve of my ear as he whispers, “Do you want to?”

Do I want to? Hell  _ yes _ I want to! I find myself nodding sharply, arms winding around his waist to bring our chests flush together. When did he take care of the body glitter? Must have been last night before the drinks. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Those, at least, seem to be the right words because Ignis is smiling across at me. He leans in to press a kiss to my cheek before patting my shoulder. “Want to let me up? I’ll get some supplies and walk you through it.”

Climbing up off of him, I try not to freak out as he reaches for the bedside table. In seconds I’m presented with several colorful packets, a pack of medical gloves, and two different tubes of lube.

“I’ve got silicone and gel based lubricants. I personally prefer the silicone, but the gel is good if we’re doing non-penetrative intercourse.”

Oh Gods. I’m… I’m freaking out. I’m legitimately freaking out. I can’t do this. I can’t.

Soft hands find mine, and Ignis eases me around to look at him. “Hey,” he whispers. His voice is low. Gentle. “We don’t have to. There’s no pressure.”

“But I want to.”

“But you aren’t ready.” It’s a statement, not an argument, and he smiles at me. “I guess I should take you on a date first, either way. It’s only proper.”

There’s this swooping in my chest, and suddenly I feel so… light. “A date?”

“Yes,” he replies, voice warm. “A date.”

After this he packs away all the “gear” and we just… fall back into bed. We lay together and kiss and hold hands. He’s kind of cold. I’m kind of warm. We kick the blankets on and off and doze while whispering our favorite movies and characters.

I never knew I could be this happy.

…

It’s a few hours before Ignis eventually rises. “It’s my day off for the most part,” he says, “but I still have to do my stretches.”

Climbing out of bed, I follow him out into the living room. “What kind of stretches?”

“You’ll see. I’m…” He glances back at me. “I’m probably going to take a shower after this.”

“Oh.” That’s about the extent of my vocabulary right now. “Do you want me to leave?”

He shakes his head, expression somewhere between confused and nervous. “No,” he denies softly. “I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”

“For stretches?”

No reply.

“For the shower?”

He shrugs. “Both, ideally.”

Or we could just cut off our fingers, he sounds so nonchalant. Or maybe he’s trying too hard to sound casual. I honestly can’t tell. “I’ll join the stretches,” I tell him honestly. “We’ll see about the shower.”

Gods, he just  _ deflates _ at this. How much courage did that take? I mean, courage or not, mine’s just about used up. Maybe in an hour that will change. Maybe it won’t. Either way, Ignis is settling on the carpet and I fall into place beside him like a particularly sentient cabbage.

“Copy me,” he says before throwing his legs out and bending toward one foot.

My fingers reach my ankle. I think that’s far enough.

Ignis wraps hands around the middle of his foot, then glances over at me. “Thanks for the company.”

I smile, and he smiles back. We switch feet. “You ever do this with Akira?” I don’t even know why I’m asking. Am I being a dick? I’m probably being a dick.

“Rarely,” is the sad, breathed reply. “For all that we’d been dating for two and a half years we hadn’t spent much time together.”

That sounds pretty backwards. We lean forward between our legs. Or he does, at least, considering I manage a vague incline at best. I’m trying not to focus too intently on the drop of sweat that’s sliding down from his neck to his back. “You guys took a lot of breaks, right? I mean, I know I’m just the noob who doesn’t have any dating experience, but that doesn’t seem right.”

“It wasn’t.” His voice is light, but I feel like maybe it wouldn’t have been if I had asked him a week ago. “We weren’t well matched at all. While I’m most definitely on the clingy side, strictly monogamous, Akira has finally made the discovery that polyamory is far healthier for him. No hard feelings. We’re having a quiet dinner with friends next Thursday. We plan to stay in contact.”

“That must be hard.” It’s not really what I want to say right now, but it sounds like something Noctis would add if he were here.

Surprisingly, Ignis seems to melt a little at this. That tension that’s been there since I turned down the offer to shower with him melts away as he brings his legs in, crosses them, and bends forward to place his elbows against the floor. “Yes.” The admission is low; almost gravelly. “But we had our moments. I certainly loved him. I still do, to be honest, but I can’t have one week of being with the man I love, followed by two of him recovering from being with me, for the rest of my life. I need someone who isn’t bothered by how clingy and…  _ strange _ I can get.”

I almost say, “Do you think I fit that description?” but I followed him home drunk last night and honestly this whole situation is confusing. Doing stretches and talking about exes can’t be standard procedure for waking up with someone. (Not that I have much room to complain, seeing as I’m apparently too sober to fuck him, anyways. Gods, this is a mess.) And while I’ve been locked in my head the silence apparently got awkward. Great job, Prompto. You’re going to lose your virginity in no time. Maybe even before you die!

Although it’s hard to think of my Virgin State when Ignis looks like this. He’s facing away from me, now, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t realize he’s reflecting off the TV. And wow, what I wouldn’t do to make him smile again.

But apparently I’m not meant for this because an idea never comes, and now we’re done with the stretches. He’s getting up. Pretty much refusing to look at me.

“I’ll probably be doing laundry a bit later. Something of Gladio’s might fit if you’d like to wear something clean on your way home, laundry or no.”

Oh, right. I… I can’t be here all day. Unless… Should I join him in the shower? It’d be a big step. Do I want to?

“Prompto?” Ignis is looking at me, now. Confused.

“Can I join you for that shower?”

There’s surprise, then more confusion, and now that smile is back and I can hardly breathe. “Of course,” he says, motioning down the hall. “Go ahead into the bathroom – first door on your right – and throw your clothes out the door. I’ll throw them in the wash.”

I nod along quickly, practically running to the bathroom and peeling my clothes off. I’ve gotten all sweaty. Gross. Do I smell? I lift an arm, take a whiff, and flinch. Oh, Gods.

“Clothes?” Ignis calls from outside.

“Yeah, just a sec.” Bundling them into a ball, I open the door a crack and push them through the gap. A hand sneaks in, grabs them, and then they’re gone.

And I’m naked.

In Ignis’ bathroom.

And he’s about to join me.

What if he doesn’t like what he sees? I mean, he seemed fine with my shirt off, but… I think what I’m really worried about is my dick. Will Ignis like it? Does it even matter? It’s such a weird thing to think about. And he’s coming in now and- shit. My hands are covering my junk. Could I be any more transparent?

“Hey,” Ignis greets warmly, eyes remaining politely above my waist.

“Hey,” I say back, easily ten times as awkward. But it isn’t. Awkward, that is. It’s anything but, because the way Ignis is looking at me right now is so…

So.

Just so.

The moment doesn’t seem to break, even as he turns away, eyes on the shower. Dropping some towels on the toilet seat, he bends forward to switch on the water.

“Is that a tattoo?” There goes the moment, but that is  _ definitely _ a skull on his ass.

“I have a few, actually,” he admits. “The one you’re looking at now was my first. A joke, of sorts. There’s been an ongoing saying that the King owns his steward’s ass. And, being as stubborn as I am, I wanted a physical reminder that no one at court can find out about my sexual orientation or it’s all over. My job. My life here. My title. As difficult as Noctis can be, I wouldn’t give up where I am in life right now for the world.”

That was not the answer I expected and _ wow _ , Ignis is amazing. Also, what? He’s in the closet? Why?

“Water’s ready,” he says, grinning back at me before sliding past the shower curtain. The skull waggles as he goes, staring me in the eye before disappearing beyond the veil.

I follow him in, pleased to find there’s more than enough room for the both of us. The showerhead is directly above, raining down from the ceiling and cascading over Ignis’ back, light skittering along trim muscles that line his sides.

Gods, is he beautiful.

My arms draw around him on instinct, pulling him close. Much to my joy, he sinks back against my chest, and while there’s a small flare of anxiety that boils up in me as his hands fall back to stroke my hips, it quickly dissipates in the wake of a satisfied groan. “Hello,” he greets me, voice low. “Imagine meeting you here.”

“Of… Of all…” I clear my throat as the words squeal from my throat. “Of all the places.”

We’re flush.

_ Fuck _ , is that a  _ boner _ ?

He’s got this blush all the way down to his chest, glistening beneath the bright bathroom lights. Our foreheads brush as he steps even closer, hands clasping behind my back. “Got you,” he teases.

“Oh no,” I manage. “Whatever shall I do?”

His eyelashes flutter shut as he leans forward. His lips are soft and wet. Gentle. Slow. There’s no insistence or demand. It’s an entirely chaste kiss; one that makes my chest tingle and my cheeks warm. “Hi,” he says again when we pull away, teeth bare in a wide grin.

“Hi.” It comes out as a giggle this time.

Gods, I think I want to grow old with this man and we haven’t even had sex yet. My hands slip around and down until I’m gripping his hips, but there’s a patch of raised skin beneath my thumb. I pause, drawing back to get a good look at the tattoo beneath my finger. There, nestled in the curve of his hip, is a small tonberry in a rainbow hoodie. “That’s a little in bad taste, don’t you think?” I find myself saying. For a moment I can’t turn my eyes away from the little daemon. But when I finally glance up I manage to catch a flash of disdain – anger – in Ignis’ eyes before he turns away. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t like thinking of that one. That’s all.”

“Why don’t you get it removed?”

Ignis grabs up a bottle of shampoo, pouring a good sized glob into his hand before setting about working it into his hair. His hands are shaking. “It’s a grim reminder, that’s all,” he tells me, voice growing softer with each word. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”

I try to will myself to grab the shampoo – to follow Ignis’ lead and get out of the shower as soon as possible. But instead I’m reaching around him, hands dragging against his stomach as I press myself against his back.

“Comfort is honestly the… last… Gods.”

He’s still hard, throbbing hotly in my hands. Fuck.  _ Literally _ . I’m holding someone else’s  _ penis _ . This is  _ insane _ ! If only fourteen year old me could see me now. Wait, oh Gods. I’m supposed to do something, aren’t I? I’m just… I’m just holding his dick and even though I know what to do with it I’m drawing the biggest, stupidest blank right now. What… What do you do with a dick?

That lightning bolt would be great right about now, Ramuh!

Or not, because Ignis is beginning to  _ shiver _ . “Is this what I get for pushing your buttons?  _ Teasing _ ?”

Shit. He thinks it’s intentional. “Maybe.” Kill me. Just  _ kill me _ . “What do you want?” Someday, if this  _ whatever _ is going on works out, I’ll tell him I’m so fucking awkward.

Ignis wraps his hand around mine, tightens his grip, and then slowly drags it up his shaft, breathing out a long, even breath. “I want this,” he gasps.

Right. Jacking off. That’s what you do with a dick. But his hands are falling away from mine, now. They land on my hips, carefully dragging me forward until – oh Gods – my erection slides between his ass cheeks. But then…  _ shit _ . He’s  _ stepping away _ , turning sharply to stare  _ directly at my dick _ . “I thought you were hard earlier.” There’s a note of discomfort in his tone.

I slap my hands over my dick, but they slowly fall away. He’s already seen it. The damage is done. ”I was getting there,” I admit. “Could you… not stare?”

“I… can’t seem to look away. Have you measured yourself?”

“What?  _ No _ ?!” Do people do that? Is that normal? Why is he reaching out of the shower?  _ Why does he have a measuring tape in the bathroom? _

“Hold still.”

This is the strangest moment of my life. I came here to make him smile and now I’m having my dick measured. Wonderful. What’s next? Somnophilia?

Ignis pretty much just collapses into the bottom of the shower.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m going to need a new plug set,” he says, almost like he’s angry about it. “There’s no way your…  _ monster _ is going to fit in my ass otherwise.”

“Okay, what?”

So he just threw the measuring tape out of the shower and  _ oh Gods _ .

This…

_ This _ is a blowjob.

His mouth barely fits around the head. It’s not like in porn where they take some random guy to the root. Both his hands are fisting around what his lips can’t cover and it… is getting really hard to focus. His tongue keeps poking out from around the tip of my dick, and then he’s popping off. “Have you been tested?” he asks point blank.

“No,” I answer honestly.

“Ah,” is his all-too-cool reply, and now he’s rising to his feet. His lips find mine and slowly, carefully, he positions our dicks together in his hands before giving them a cursory pump. And… I’m starting to get what he meant. He penis looks so  _ small _ next to mine. But the thought’s fading, now. He starts slow. It’s beautiful. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And when my mouth falls open in a gasp he dives right in.

My body draws tight before too long, and I’m finishing against his chest. It sucks. It’s great. I feel so stupid. I’m on top of the world.

Ignis comes seconds later and everything is perfect.

I tell him as much.

He laughs and kisses me.

…

Noctis’ apartment is almost too loud when he lets me in. “Sorry I forgot to call,” he says the moment I’m through the door. “I kind of have a massive hangover.”

“Playing super loud video games won’t help,” I point out dryly, motioning to his TV. This earns me a laugh and a wince.

“Nah. Just gotta power through it.”

“That’s not how hangovers work.”

He blows a raspberry. “That’s totally how they work.”

We’re quiet for about an hour – aside from the usual video game banter – before I work up the courage to say, “I went home with Ignis last night.”

Noctis turns so quickly to look at me he falls off the couch.

“You okay?”

He’s back on his chosen cushion in an instant, staring me down. “Details. All of them. Was he nice? Was he a proper gentleman? He didn’t insist on topping, did he? Did you use a condom?”

“Slow down!” I insist, holding my hands in surrender. “We didn’t even have sex!”

“Oral sex is still sex.”

“... Okay, we  _ kinda _ had sex.”

“Kinda?”

“We, uh…” Well, I least I have someone I can trust to tell this to. “I kind of chickened out of actual sex, but when we went to take a shower we kind of… jerked off together-ish. And apparently I have a big dick?”

“You do?”

“You’ve seen it in the locker rooms. Don’t you know?”

“Dude, I’ve seen you flaccid. I’ve never been up close and personal with your raging hardon.”

“What matters?”

“ _ Way _ matters.”

I guess that kind of makes sense.

Noctis is leaning back like he’s having problems staying awake. His eyes fall shut and he blows out a sigh. “He didn’t pressure you or anything, right?”

“No, no,” I assure him. “He was great. Perfect, even.”

And that would be the door. Opening. Letting in a human being piled high with groceries. “A little help would be appreciated,” Ignis calls around the bags.

I’m there in a second, taking one of the larger bags out of his arms, freeing his face from the mass.

He smiles at me like we hadn’t just seen each other. “Prompto, hello.”

“Hi,” I say back, trying maybe a touch too hard not to think of arms encircling my waist and water cascading over my head. “Imagine seeing you here.” Okay, that’s moot.

As Noctis takes another one of the bags, he steps slowly into the apartment. A well placed kick closes the front door. “Well, seeing as I no longer have to keep my distance, I imagine we’ll run into each other quite often.”

“Run or thrust?” Noctis drawls.

Ignis is so red right now. It’s amazing. I mean, I am too, but it’s funnier on him.

Ignis doesn’t answer; instead stepping straight into the kitchen.

Noctis leans my way. “Was that bad?”

“I thought it was hilarious,” I tell him honestly.

“Well, he’s not you. I might have crossed a line.”

Good ol’ Noctis. Holding an arm out, I motion for the groceries. “Gimme those. I’ll talk to him.”

He’s slow to hand them over at first; staring me down with a soft, “You sure?”

I smile and nod like it’s nothing. Which it is. “Go on back to your game. I’ll rejoin in a bit.”

It’s a while before he gives in; before he hands over the bag of groceries and retreats back to the couch. Ignis is already done putting the rest of the food away, and now he’s turning to me.

“Mind giving me a head of broccoli from the larger bag?”

“Sure,” I reply. I set them on the counter, then hand him the broccoli. “Want me to put these away?”

“That would be an excellent help, yes.”

It’s a short while before I finish; before I step up behind Ignis and wrap my arms around his waist. 

“Hey,” I say as sweetly as I can.

“Hey,” He coos back.

“How gooey am I allowed to be around your boss?”

There’s an um. A small chuckle. “That depends on how gooey you’d like to be around your best friend.”

“Noctis is a sap, man. That can’t be our limit.”

“He is  _ far _ from a sap.”

“No, dude, he is the squishiest squish and a total softie. Don’t underestimate how sweet he can be.”

Ignis’ eyes turn to the living room, and he gives a surprised, “Huh.”

I bend forward to kiss his ear as he turns back to the stove. “What’s he like around you?”

“Sharp. Annoying. Defensive. Likes to call me Mum.”

“Well he was pretty sure he insulted you there with that comment he made, and he’s pretty worried about that.”

His head shoots up at this, but he says nothing.

I lean back against the counter, watching as he goes back to work. But as the minutes stretch on my anxiety waxes and wanes and waxes and wanes and eventually waxes until I’m a nervous ball of energy. “Are we dating or fucking?” What is even coming out of my mouth right now? “I mean, you said we’d go on a date, but is that for the sake of dating or just… to fuck?”

Ignis is quick to lower the heat on the pot before moving it to another coil, then turns to face me. His gaze flicks toward the living room, then back to meet mine. “How about I make you dinner tonight? We’ll talk it over when there are no pre-pubescent ears listening in.”

“I am comfortably  _ post _ -pubescent, thanks.” That would be Noctis. Casually listening at the island. Not even trying to pretend he’s not eavesdropping. “What’s for lunch, Iggy?”

Turning back around, Ignis places the pot back on the ring and switches the heat back on. “Fettuccini Alfredo with chicken, broccoli, and cauliflower.”

“Cauliflower, too? You’re gonna kill me.”

“A few vegetables in your diet will do you no harm.”

…

The apartment is empty when I drop by for some overnight gear: clothes, deodorant, a toothbrush, and my glasses. The only sign my parents have been home in the last twenty-four hours is a note from my dad on the fridge.

_ Congratulations on getting the job! (We were contacted about some NDAs to sign.) Great job! Hope you find your place in the Crownsguard. _

_ Love, Dad. ❤ _

…

Taking the bus to Ignis’ apartment is… surreal. I spent last night at his place, and now I’m prepared for a repeat. The walk from the stop to his building is brief, and after he buzzes me in I’m in the elevator… and now I’m here and Ignis is waving me in and- “Is that curry?”

“I asked Noctis what your favorite food was,” he informs me warmly. “Just don’t expect any sex tonight. The mess would be horrendous.”

“I don’t make a habit of expecting sex,” I point out dryly.

“Yes, well, if only that were the general consensus.” Is that a jab at society or a self-deprecating remark? It’s hard to tell. “And I like your glasses.”

“Thanks.” I just wish my eyes weren’t screaming from leaving my contacts in.

The curry is amazing. I’m totally blown away by it. Ignis is great. We don’t talk much during the meal, but the moment I set my spoon down his hand is reaching across the table.

His voice shakes a bit as he asks, “Would you mind holding my hand?” Is he nervous? Whoa, he’s nervous.

I reach across the table without hesitation, tangling his fingers with mine. “Okay,” I say.

“My thanks,” he sighs, eyes shifting away. “These talks are always… difficult.”

A slow nod is my reply. I can’t really say anything even with a million questions flying through my mind.  _ Are you just not interested? It’s my dick, isn’t it? Am I not boyfriend material? _

“I’m barely twenty,” he begins boldly. “You’re eighteen. We’re both members of the Crownsguard – or will be – and we will see each other on a near constant basis in a professional capacity. Something we’ll both have to keep in mind is that the only member of the Royal Family who can know of our relationship is Noctis, and the only Crownsguard is Gladiolus. None of the Kingsglaive are to know, and neither is the King.”

This… was not the kind of talk I was expecting.

“I realize you’ve been in very Queer Positive environments as of late, but what I need to impress upon you right now is that the Royal Court is not. By Lucian Law we are both forbidden to be hired on by the court in any capacity.”

I think my mouth just fell open because  _ what _ ?

Ignis clears his throat. “Yes, it’s a bit of a frivolous law, isn’t it?”

This is… A Lot. “So, like… I have to be in the closet while I’m working?”

“Yes.”

“And… And you’re in the closet?”

“That is correct.”

“Does Noctis know about this?”

“As of approximately two hours ago, yes. I had a similar chat with him over the phone about the rather explicit language of the law.”

This was not what I expected at all. I can’t… I don’t know what to say to this. I slide my hand out of his, and this makes him flinch. And I’m sorry about that – I really am – but there’s this cold shiver up my spine and I can’t… I can’t. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I can help,” he offers lowly. “I know a few methods of throwing people off your scent if they begin to pry. There are tricks: glitter removal, disguises, areas members of the court wouldn’t dare approach, arrangements with ladies in the community for dates. There are ways to not get caught.”

“But we’re not doing anything wrong.”

The way he’s looking at me right now is… Why can’t he always just smile at me? Or, rather, why does weird bad  _ shit _ have to happen anywhere  _ near  _ him? Why do bullshit laws against our very  _ existence _ have a right to blow through our lives like a fucking  _ plow _ ?

But that’s not what I need to think about right now, is it? I need to think of what could be my job. My life. My… Ignis?

He’s standing beside me, now. His hand is gently sitting on my shoulder and I find myself nodding quietly.

“I’ll try,” I promise.

He smiles, bends, and kisses me.

…

**Ignis: After Prompto is Asleep**

Long fingers card through short blond strands as Ignis watches Prompto sleep. His eyes trace over the curve of pale cheeks, the flutter of his eyelashes as his lids shift in REM, and the gentle rise and fall of a wide chest.

At the bedside, a phone gives a gentle buzz.

Grabbing it up, Ignis unlocks it with a lazy hand, staring blankly at the screen.

_ You with Prompto? _

It’s from Gladiolus.

His text back is professional, at best.  _ Is there something you need me to pass on? _

_ Yeah. Weight training at 6:30AM at the Palace. _

Ignis navigates quickly to his alarms, then back to the messaging screen.  _ I’ll bring him with me _ .

_ Does he snore? _

He restrains a laugh.  _ No. _

_ Knew it. _

Then he does laugh, cheeks flushing down to his chest as he fires off one last text.  _ Night, Gladio. _


	6. Happiness and Queer | Heterosexual Alibi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in like one day I'm dying all credit goes to Arnaud and [Coffee](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com) because considering how ready I am to pass out right now I'm honestly convinced they're keeping me alive.
> 
> Enjoy.

It’s a familiar table. A familiar group. A familiar speech from Quina and a familiar promise of pizza. The table still takes up most of the room, and when everyone finishes their introductions I stand up and scratch the back of my head nervously. “Hey guys,” I say. “I’m Prompto. Twenty-one. Bisexual. He/Him.”

Vivi gives me a set of finger guns.

I return them enthusiastically before turning back to the group. “So, as you guys may know I’ll be aging out of the program in a few weeks, and I’m going to miss a lot of you. I-”

Oh Gods, that’s a cake.

“You guys planned this?”

They’ve starting singing Happy Birthday and I think I’m going to cry.

…

I do cry.

I regret nothing.

…

There are more of us on the train to Insomnia with each passing year. More kids moving in nervous herds into the train station until they take their seats, dispersed along the car. Gazes are avoided. Hands are carefully clasped beneath book bags and jackets. Some of them huddle close; a phone between them playing the same cat video over and over as an excuse to be close. To brush shoulders and smile.

These are all the things I wouldn’t have noticed when I first went to the meetings. The undercurrent of fear. The constant need of a Heterosexual Alibi.

In my pocket my phone buzzes. Fishing it out, I try not to grin too widely at the screen.

_ Spare. 7PM. 1:00. _

I type up my reply from the phone’s limited emoji selection – a clock and coconut emoji.

It’s been three years, but I still feel like I’m a spy. I’m waiting for the newness to wear off and the nausea to set it, but it doesn’t. The cheap flip phone in my hand is a burner, as is the one in Ignis’ on the other end of the line. All times listed have two hours added on, and every emoji has a series of meanings depending on context. Translated, the messages read like this:

_ I’ve managed to get some time off and should be home for about an hour at nine o’clock tonight. _

_ I’ll arrive early and lube up for when you get there. _

His reply is a series of exclamation marks along with a surprising, “Behave.”

We’re probably going to have to dump our burners within the hour at this rate. Stick to the theme, man! At least he didn’t send me another dick pick. I’d probably die. Okay, not  _ die _ . But it’ll certainly destroy something inside me if I have to throw away even one more racy photo of that man’s beautiful body. I want to dedicate an entire museum to the contour of his dick.

Then I’d have to make three for his ass.

…

Ignis pretty much throws open the door when he gets home. He’s a few minutes early, and sweat is racing down his face. Did he run here? I’m pretty sure he ran here. “Coconut,” he breathes. “They came, didn’t they?”

I step away from the counter, reaching down to rifle through a box sitting innocuously on the floor. Retrieving a small blister pack, I flash it at him.

_ Anal Training Plugs. _

He’s on me in an instant, herding me against the counter, hands sliding into my hair as he peppers my neck with kisses. “You just couldn’t wait, could you?” he teases warmly.

“I’ve been waiting forever for this, man,” I groan. “I mean, who would have thought I would be allergic to the last one?”

Ignis huffs against my throat. “Gods. Don’t remind me.” His lips drag across my skin as his fingers trail down my sides, hooking in the hem of my spanky pants. “Hmm… Trying to get me going fast, huh?”

I snort. “Dude, I can  _ feel _ your hardon. I didn’t try. I succeeded.”

He hums again, hands dipping beneath the waistband. “Yes, the more skin I see, the better.” Horny bastard. “You look fantastic.”

“Bed,” I whisper. “Let’s go to bed.”

Ignis nods quickly, and we’re pretty much stumbling down the hall, now. Hands are wandering. Lips are catching. All too quickly the backs of my legs are hitting the comforter, and I’m being pushed back against the mattress. Fingers hook into my spanky pants, pulling them over my knees and ankles, tossing them across the room before motioning for me to turn over.

I do, and now I’m flying blind, if you don’t count the pillows and the headboard.

Hands drag over my ass. They pull it apart, and a mouth descends against the edges of the plug. It’s quickly replaced by fingers. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” I say, and then it’s slowly pulling out. I’ve gotten used to the sensation over the last hour. Maybe too used to it. Whatever erection I had at the beginning of this is long gone.

Ignis gets up, and I watch him as he steps around the bed to the bedside table, rifling through the drawer before pulling out some silicone lube and a medical glove. Snapping it on, he moves back around the bed. Before long there’s a gentle prodding at my ass. “Are you tender?”

“Not really.”

“Good. Good.” A kiss is pressed to my ass, and a finger slowly pokes inside me. It’s not the most comfortable sensation. I guess I’m just not used to it? 

The finger retreats, then returns with a glob of lube. He prods at my hole again, smearing it. “You’re nervous.”

“Yeah.” My voice cracks a bit, but that’s okay. “This is a lot to get used to.”

“We don’t have to do this tonight, you know.” I wish I could see his face. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed.

I sure am. “I want to, “ I tell him, as if it isn’t already entirely obvious.

“Have you been enjoying the plug, at least?”

No. “It’s okay.” A finger pushes past that first ring and I’m pretty sure I just erupted in goosebumps. Come on, you can get used to this! You can! “You’ll probably feel a bit better than a bit of plastic.”

“Hopefully,” he puts in dryly. And is that supposed to be encouragement? Because it  _ sounds _ like he’s trying not to get my hopes up. “You’re very Tight.”

I grin. “That’s good, right?”

“That’s dangerous,” is the rough reply.

Shit. There, apparently, is a difference between tight and Tight. The finger inside me gives a wiggle, and then there’s a shift. “Looking for my prostate?”

“How does that feel?”

I meet this with a shrug, trying not to roll my eyes. “It’s okay, I guess.” It feels like a worm wriggling around in my intestines. In a non-painful but still invasive way.

There’s another wiggle, and then a prod. “How was that?”

Uncomfortable. Really weird. A little painful. “Not… I didn’t really enjoy it.”

There’s a pause. A long, awkward pause and for a second I start to panic. “Prompto, I’m massaging your prostate.”

Oh.

Glove snapping, Ignis removes his finger and steps away.

Shifting to face him, I try not to cover myself. I feel so… exposed. We’ve been going out for three years and I’m just… No. This can’t be happening.

“Is something wrong?” He’s got that face, now. That sweet one. The worried one.

“I just wanted to do this for you,” I say, and even as the words come out I know they’re the wrong ones. Gods, he’s gonna jump on that, isn’t he?

“I’m perfectly fine receiving, Prompto.” It’s a scold, at best.

Before he can continue I’m already opening my big mouth, pretty much shouting, “Yeah, but  _ every time? _ ”

The glove is thrown to the floor; an unusual show of… force? Something like force. But it’s hard to think of that because Ignis is climbing onto the bed. His fingers thread into my hair, holding me still as his breath washes over my face. “Prompto,” he begins. Sometimes he says my name like a promise, and this is one of those times. “Prompto, you don’t have to worry about pleasing me. I would be satisfied with nothing, because that is what you owe me. You owe me nothing.”

I feel so goddamn childish next to this man. I’m nearly twenty-two and it feels like he’s always going to be more mature. That he’s always going to be making sacrifices. That he’s going to be the one to compensate for every place that I fall short. Relationships are supposed to be more even, right? Or is that just a myth? I mean, I guess it would make more sense if everyone brought something different to their relationship. They are bringing themselves.

Maybe that’s just the way things are.

“Are you alright?” he whispers, pressing our foreheads together.

“I kind of feel like crying.” The admission is far from welcome – for me – but Ignis takes it well. Ignis always takes things well.

Smiling softly, he settles a hand on my chest and pushes me back to the mattress before laying at my side. A gentle kiss is pressed against my pec, and a hand draws circles against my stomach. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs. “Do you mind if we cuddle for the time we have?”

“Okay.” It’s a welcome distraction, but I have a feeling he’s going to want to talk it out. He likes to do that. And, true to form, the moment I shift onto my side and throw an arm over his waist his mouth opens like clockwork.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

What I’m about to say is a bit of a lie, but I say it anyways. “I just wanted to do this with you.”  _ For you. _ Am I a dick for lying? Is this manipulation? Or is it bad that I feel like I have to lie about my feelings to get him to work with me? Maybe it’s both. Maybe this is how things go.

“We still can,” he murmurs. The finger against my chest goes still. “It might just take more time than this, and there’s the reality that it won’t be nearly as good as we want it to be. I don’t want to get your hopes up because this… reality we have to face is certainly going to be difficult.”

He says it like me having an unresponsive prostate is like having a dull knife in the kitchen. Except my prostate can’t get sharpened.

I scoot down on the mattress until I can bury my face in his chest, one hand falling to his shoulder while the other sandwiches oddly between us. “I want to try.”

“We can,” he mumbles. “Later. When we have more time.”

_ When? _ I don’t say out loud.  _ You’re always busy with meetings and whenever we’re together in public outside a gay bar we have to pretend to be friends. _

Ignis, of course, catches onto this anyway and he’s pressing little kisses to my face.

I do him one better, rolling atop him and pushing my mouth into his, prying at the seam of his lips with my tongue. His jaw goes lax as I roll my hips. The little gasp he gives goes straight to my groin.

At our side, his phone goes off.

“Time’s up.”

Ignis groans. He’s already hot and hard, legs twining around my hips as he pushes against my leg. “It’s the ten minute warning.”

“We’re not going to get off in ten minutes.”

He’s a hot mess right now. Hands comb nervously through his hair as his legs fall from around me, and he groans again. “Gods, but I want you.”

Pressing my lips in an open mouthed kiss to his throat, I snort. “Too bad Mr. Workaholic.”

“Fuck me tonight. Please.” That’s begging. That’s… Shit.

“Dude, you have a security meeting with the night staff, remember? You won’t even be back until two in the morning.”

“I’ll douche myself now,” he insists, thrusting weakly against my leg. “During a break I’ll duck into a bathroom and put a plug in. If… If you don’t mind me waking you at two in the morning, I’ll… I’ll be ready, and…” His voice broke at “two.” He sounds desperate for it.

Lust is twisting in my stomach. A two in the morning fuck? “I’ll have to drop by my house for some more of my stuff if I’m staying over again.” The unspoken “because we can’t afford to have someone find too much of my things here” doesn’t seem to reach him any more, and it kills me a little inside to know the bitterness is fading. I’m getting used to this. I’m getting used to being in the closet.

…

The bus ride back home is getting too familiar. I’d take the train, but there are too many cameras. The cheaper buses only have security installations that delete the footage after twenty-four hours unless otherwise saved. I pull a cap over my hair most days – I’m tempted to just dye it black as time goes on. It’s so memorable. But as long as I keep to myself no one makes a comment, no one will find out.

It kills me that it doesn’t kill me any more.

For a lack of anything better to do, I pull out my phone and scroll through some messages. They’re mostly just group alerts from the Crownsguard – weight training and camping stuff. There are a few from Ignis – business related – and a handful from Gladio. Then there’s a string of messages from Noctis.

_ I’ve been working on something I need your signature on if you could drop by my office before your training tomorrow. _

_ It’s important so call me if you can’t make it. _

My reply is an incredulous, “You’ll be in your office at four in the morning?” There’s a series of ellipsis, and then the reply pops through.

_ Yes _ .

Whoa. This must be really important.

He follows it up with a gif of a cat eating some lettuce.

Classic Noctis.

…

In a rare show of rareness, my mom is home when I step through the door.

“Welcome home, honey,” she greets me warmly from the table. A cup of tea steams before her.

“Hey, mom.” A rush of affection washes over me as I grab the kettle from the stove and fill one for myself before joining her.

She smiles. “Grabbing some more of your things?”

“Uh, yeah,” I admit, blowing carefully over the tea. “Another early morning at training hall.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of your time over there.”

“Y- yeah. Ignis’ place is closer to work, and the buses around here don’t run as early as I need them.” The excuse it well practiced. And hey, it’s true. I’m not going to lie to my mom… except for maybe by exclusion.

She hums. Then, reaching into her purse, she pulls out a small wrapped box. Across the front, the words “For Prompto, Happy Birthday” are printed in neat characters. “I was going to leave this on the table for you to find, but since I have you here I might as well give them to you personally.”

I take the box, turning it over, but before I can open it my mom is talking again.

“I realize you’ve got more than enough money to buy the things you want these days,” she begins softly, “so I figured I’d give you something a bit more intangible. A mother knows these things if she cares enough to look.” A glance to her watch and she’s rising to her feet, taking one last sip of her tea before announcing, “I’ve got to run, now. Emergency meeting with the board. Have a good night, honey. I love you.”

And then she’s out the door and I’m alone with the brightly colored box.

It’s…

It’s rainbow.

It’s probably a coincidence.

I pick at the tape until the wrapping comes neatly free. It takes more time than it should, and people tend to rush me, but I prefer to do it this way. (Ignis just cuts his with a razor blade and gets it over with.) But as I slide the package out of the wrapping, I find myself tossing it across the table in a panic. It slides over the waxed surface before tumbling to the floor. Oh Gods.

Oh  _ Gods _ , that was a box of condoms.

She knows.

_ Fuck _ , she knows.

Calm  _ down _ , Prompto. Calm down. You can do this, breathe.

...

The packaging was rainbow. She gave me condoms. I still have my job. She said she loves me. No one else knows. She's my mom.

Everything is going to be okay.

Just breathe.

…

“- aun, y-”

Go away.

“Lit-”

I just want to sleep.

“Guess I’ll just… go to sleep.”

IGNIS.

SEX.

TWO IN THE MORNING.

I THINK I ALMOST GAVE MYSELF A HEART ATTACK but I’m awake now and Ignis looks pretty damn startled.

“Good morning,” he greets nervously. He’s out of breath; face flushed. Only the bedside lamp is on, and he’s downright ethereal in the dim light.

I check my alarm.

1:30PM of fucking  _ course _ .

“I’m sorry,” and I mean it but  _ hey _ , I’m  _ awake _ . My hands reach for his jaw, then draw him in close. Eyelashes flutter as he follows in a daze. Beneath my palm his skin is hot, and it’s taking everything in me not to just drag him in. He deserves something slow tonight. Something tender. “Tired?”

“Very,” he whispers. Okay, yeah, no, he’s literally gripping my dick right now like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him vertical. He’s getting fucked into next week. I grab at his hips without much in the warning, jerking him over into the center of the bed before reaching for his suspenders. They slide off his shoulders easily as he arches beneath me, ever accommodating. By the time I’m done unbuttoning his shirt he’s already taken off his pants and kicked off his underwear. He’s just here in his socks, now.

Gods, is this man hairy. His chest is wire, his stomach is furry, and his legs are a forest. I don’t even bother restraining myself from running my hands through it. Absolutely beautiful. He’s soft and wonderful and beautiful and  _ mine _ . It’s been three years and I still can’t believe it.

“How fast do you want it?” I ask, pushing his legs up.

Obediently, he grabs at his knees and holds them high. “A nine out of ten would be nice.”

“Last time we did a nine you needed a cane. Six.”

“Eight,” he argues.

“Seven and a half,” I shoot back.

He looks like he’s about to argue – maybe jump back to a nine – but his expression folds as my fingers slide against the edges of the plug. “Seven and a half.”

Easing back, I rip off my sleep shirt and step out of my boxers, kicking them off to some unknown corner of the room. “Want me to pull out your plug for you?”

“Yes, please.”

So I do. I take it slow, just the way he doesn’t like it. Easing it out of his hole, flared base firm in my hand, I pause as the widest part eases against his rim. There’s a tense line through his entire body so I… slide it back in.

“Prompto, you  _ twat _ .”

“Thank you. Vaginas are great, aren’t they?”

He swats my arm.

I slide it back… and  _ punch _ it back in.

His leg shoots out, falling against the mattress as he bites back a moan. “ _ You tease _ .”

“You’re the one who asked for seven and a half,” I fire back.

“If you had agreed to a nine we would already be fucking right now.”

“If I had agreed to a nine we wouldn’t be on the bed, you’d already be finished, and your entire ass would be a bruise.” But even as I’m saying this I finally tug the plug free and he’s… Gods, he’s gaping.

“I swear to Ifrit if you put your tongue anywhere near my ass right now I will start singing Over the Rainbow.”

“No.”

“Some- _ where _ -” His voice just cracked, oh  _ fuck he’s serious _ .

“I’m not even close to rimming you!” I defend sharply, giving my dick a desperate tug. Gotta stay hard, oh shit. Throwing myself over him, I guide my dick against his ass.

He’s immediately craning his neck for a kiss.

I can’t deny this man anything.

His mouth is soft and insistent, and his ass is tight and warm and slick with lube as I push in. Our chests brush as he heaves for breath, nose hissing against my cheek. Pleasure coils low; sharp and blinding at the head of my dick deep inside him.  _ Gods _ . I can’t stop myself as I reach for his stomach, pressing against the bulge that I know is  _ me _ .

Ignis gasps like he’s the one I’m practically jerking off. “Move,” he demands, knees bending back until they’re hooking over my shoulders. He’s bent in half like it’s nothing. To him, I guess it is.

“Seven, right?” I tease.

“Eight,” he demands softly.

I can’t deny this man  _ anything _ .

Fingers sliding over his hips, I jerk him back with me as I rise onto my knees, lifting him into the air until his shoulders barely touch the comforter. “Eight,” I agree. I slowly ease back and…  _ snap _ my hips forward.

Gods, I love it when he goes quiet like this. Like he’s trying to keep the entire world trapped inside his throat. His arms are limp against the blankets, stomach trembling as I thrust into him one push at a time. And as great as this is for me, I can never focus much on the pleasure. It’s just  _ him _ . Just Ignis.

My world.

He’s got this flush that stretches to his belly button, just the way I like, and his half shuttered eyes shine in the dim light as his entire body shifts with each rough jerk back onto my dick. Folded against the mattress, he doesn’t move an inch. Leaves everything to me.  _ Everything _ .

After a while he starts to sputter. Holds his breath through some of the harder thrust as he attempts to keep the noise in.

The neighbors can’t hear.

They can never hear.

When Ignis comes proper – the way he’s doing now – it’s a violent thing. His spine arches to the point of pain and his mouth opens and out comes this half silent, half deafening wail that I know will be locked in my head and run on repeat for the rest of the week.

…

Noctis’ office is Spartan at best. There's a small potted plant that I'm pretty sure is fake by the window, but other than that the furniture is minimal and uncomfortable. I'm pretty sure he's getting frustrated enough with it to replace the wooden guest chairs with a sofa and his fancy computer chair with a fancier gaming chair out of his own pocket. But at the same time he doesn't want to be accused of taking naps in his office. He does (and, as a side note, has proved on many an occasion that he can sleep standing) but that doesn't mean he can afford to let the Royal Court know that.

I'm starting to think the Royal Court knowing anything is cause for concern.

Noctis is bent over several sheets of paper when I arrive, pen working furiously. He almost doesn’t see me until I get to his desk. He jumps about a foot, though. “What the hell?”

“Dude, I even knocked,” I tease. “You said to come in.”

“Uh… Reflex.”

“Whatever, man. Whatcha got for me?”

He shakes his head, muttering about Crownsguard and their creepy training – ha – and pushes a piece of paper across the table.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a renegotiation of your contract.”

“Um… Why?” I ask even as I pick it up. Most of the legal jargon is exactly the same. At least, as far as I can tell. I’m not a lawyer. I don’t know this stuff. “It doesn’t look any different.”

“Who’s your employer, according to that document?” he prompts. Is this a trick question?

“Um… You are?” I reply dryly, glancing nervously down to the “parties” section. It’s all gibberish, frankly.

He looks far too happy right now. “Exactly.”

“You’re…” My eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Who’s your employer right now, Prompto?”

“You?”

“Be more specific.”

I… I gotta think on this. Wow. Um… If it isn’t Noctis, it’s… “The… Crown?”

“Think about that for a second,” he tells me firmly. “Really, really think about what that means.”

I am thinking. I got nothing. I mean, this contract doesn’t have a pamphlet so there’s not much to…

Oh.

_ Oh _ .

There’s no  _ pamphlet _ .

“There’s no conduct obligations about my termination.”

“ _ Exactly _ .” He sounds about as excited as I should be. I’m… I’m kind of freaking out. “It’s a temporary fix, but it’ll last until I take the throne when I turn twenty-five, and then what I say will be law.”

Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“I, uh… I’ve also gotten a spot in the Pride Parade, if you want to join me.”

Oh.

Shit.

“You  _ will _ join me, right? I mean, it can’t just be a straight dude in a car driving down the street. That’d just be disrespectful.”

“Yeah.” My voice is cracking. I just… I can’t pull myself together, I’m going to be a mess all day. “Yeah, I’ll join you.” Noctis, you’re the best.

…

**Noctis: Visiting the Hospital**

Insomnia West Medical Center smells like disinfectant and dying flowers.

Or maybe that’s just the bouquet.

Approaching the main desk, clad in a suit that looks too new to have been worn more than once, Noctis shifts the vase enough to partially reveal his face to the woman working the front desk. “Hey, uh, I’m looking for a patient named ‘Monks?’ Admitted a few days ago. I’m the one who called.”

The lady glances up at him, then back at her computer. “Mr. Monks is in room 325.” Reaching beneath the table, she places a small badge on the counter. “Third floor. Fifth door on your right.”

“Thanks,” he says, snatching up the visitor’s pass and clipping it to a lapel.

The elevator ride is brief, made memorable only by a little girl in a wheelchair entering the lift on the second floor with him and snapping her shark grabber at him, making noises. He makes noises back, forming an alligator with his hands and flapping his lips before he has to leave.

He finds the room without trouble.

It takes him ten minutes to knock.

_ “Come in.” _

When Noctis finally pushes open the door, on the other side sits Jane. Her makeup is gone. Her face is pale. Her arms are bandaged, and half a dozen tubes are wired into her arms.

“Hey,” he greets wetly. “Sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

“Tess?” Her voice is a whisper, at best. Confusion sits deep in her frown. “What are you doing here?”

Grabbing up one of the chairs by the wall, Noctis closes the door behind him and steps up to the side of the bed. He fumbles with the vase as he tries to balance the abundance of flowers, settling it on her bedside table before collapsing into the seat. “It’s kind of a long story.”

She shrugs. “Well, I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Noctis bites his lip, then tugs open his suit jacket. He tries to ignore the eyes on him as his phone comes to light. Then, popping open the case, he presented his ID.

His real one.

Silence fell as Jane’s gaze slid over the plastic over.

And over.

And over again.

“Holy shit.”

Noctis reaches for it, tucking it back inside his phone case before storing them back in his jacket. “I wanted you to know I've arranged for my own spot at the Pride Parade tomorrow. We're going to play the national anthem and the guys – my Crownsguard – will wear their flags. I can't make any official statements before or after because of my father's public stance on the Queer Community, but I want our presence to be a sort of... reassurance.”

Hands fly over Jane’s face, and for a long time they say nothing as long, wet gasps pierce the air.

She smiles.

“Jane-”

She sobs. Arms draw over her face.

“Are you-”

“No one’s called me that in years,” she whispers.

“No offense, but you’re surrounded by fucking assholes.”

Her face is red when she pulls her arms away. “Yeah,” she agrees softly. “Yeah, I am.”

Slowly, he reaches for her hand.

She takes it weakly.

“Jane,” he begins again, pausing for a moment to smile back as a grin broke out across her face, “I want you in the car with us.”

“Even after what I did to Prompto?”

Noctis laughs. “You’re kidding, right?” he drawls. “He was worried  _ sick _ . I finally decided to pull some strings to find you. He, uh, still doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?” she asks, voice small. “That you found me, that my parents put me in that  _ program _ , or that I tried to kill myself?”

A flinch follows. Noctis’ hand clasps tighter around hers. “He doesn’t know.”

“Good.”

“Are you? Good?”

“I regretted it as soon as I woke up,” she admits softly. “So yeah. I think I’m good.”

Noctis smiles. “Good.”

They’re quiet for a long time before she tells him, “I’ll go if the hospital lets me.”


	7. Come On Out | Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belated Happy birthday to [Marley](http://dirtyhecker.tumblr.com)! This one’s for you because I found out about your birthday too late. <3 (Had to hold back from replying to reviews for a bit because I knew I would spill it.)
> 
> Also, it’s late and bitter and short because life happens.

Ignis is feeling brave.

His fingers are twisted with mine so hard I don’t have a hope of separating them.

There’s a crowd of people around us and he’s holding my hand.

He fiddles with the safety pin keeping the flag around my shoulders in place with his free hand, tutting lightly. “I still think we would have all looked rather nice in suits. A bow tie could have held the entire ensemble together rather well. I know a few people who would have gladly loaned us an evening gown for Miss Monks.”

“We need to be recognizable,” Gladio shoots back dryly, tugging his shirt back down as it tries to ride up his stomach. “Besides, it’s not often we get to wear the official Crownsguard uniform. Bare it with pride.”

Up front, Jane is patting a beat on the car steering wheel. “Vroom, vroom, motherfuckers,” she singsongs to herself. “Hey, how fast can this thing go? It’s pretty snazzy.”

“It caps at sixty miles per hour for safety,” Ignis throws over his shoulder, still fussing with my safety pin. “Are we sure we don’t want to just tie these together with twine? Someone around here is sure to have some.”

I give his hand a squeeze. “It’s going to be fine, Iggy. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Let’s hope they don’t chuck bricks at us just for being here.”

“No one brings bricks to a Pride parade.”

“Straight people might,” he fires back.

Maybe he’s not feeling brave.

Maybe he’s scared.

“Everything is going to be fine,” I assure him for what feels like the millionth time. Worrywart. I mean, things could definitely go south. The crowd could misinterpret our presence. They could think we’re mocking them. But while Ignis adjusts the bisexual flag hanging from my shoulders once more, rainbow hanging from his, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that everything is going to be alright.

Gladio’s Ace flag flutters as a breeze kicks up and he glances over the rest of the sitting cars and groups of marchers. No one seems to be paying us any mind; too busy getting ready to look at the fancy car.

From in front, someone holds up a flag and shouts, “Two minutes! Get your engines running!”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Jane half sings, popping her sunglasses on and turning over the engine. Her arm slides over the door, placing the pink stripes sewn into her jean jacket on full display. “Alright, alright, alright, alright.”

Noctis rises up in his seat, sitting on the back of the car and… Shit, he’s super nervous.

Bringing Ignis’ hand up to my face, I kiss his knuckles. “Hey,” I whisper, “I’m going to go check on Noctis, okay?”

Ignis glances back at him, finally relinquishing my safety pin. “Ah, yes,” he replies softly. Slowly, his fingers release their death grip. “Would you like some help?”

“I’ll tell you if I do.”

He smiles at me, then steps away.

And this is… so surreal. As I move toward the car, I’m just struck by how unreal this situation is. I’m out in public, bisexual flag around my neck, about to march in the Insomnia Pride Parade with my boyfriend at my side as a member of the Crownsguard, with Noctis in the capacity of Crown Prince, with Jane – who’s  _ back in my life _ and wearing the Trans Flag colors on every bit of her body as she can – in front, leading the way. Not to mention Gladio, who just… took off his shirt for some reason. I’m not sure what to do, but as I approach Noctis I have something of an idea. Something like a plan.

“Hey.”

He jumps a little, and wow. That’s promising.

Sarcasm.

“Hey,” he replies breathily.

Planting my hands on the trunk, I lean forward so I’m not breathing in the car exhaust. “You okay?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he replies, hands clenched in his lap. His face is lax, but his leg is jumping against the leather seat. It’s… kind of hilarious, but he’s taken off his shoes. “I feel like I don’t belong here. Like I’m trespassing. Like I shouldn’t be in the center of this setup.”

Gods. I’m laughing. I shouldn’t be laughing right now. I think I’m scaring him. But, like… Yeah. “Dude, don’t worry about it.” My voice is… warm. Soft. “You being in the center is a tactic. We’re all armed right now, remember? You’re royalty in an open area with high political tension about to take a controversial stance on human rights and political policy. No matter what anyone in or out of the community says, you need to be protected right now. That’s priority.”

It’s a while before the group in front of us starts to move. It’s a group of Galahdian dancers followed by a drum group. And they’re really impressive.

_ Especially _ the pregnant lady.  _ Wow _ .

I take my spot in the center of Ignis and Gladio. But as soon as we start stepping forward, Ignis leaves his spot to grab my hand. For a moment I feel like a lifeline. And maybe I am. His fingers are tight around mine, and his expression is tight.

“Hey,” I whisper, leaning close.

“Hey,” he breathes back.

“Everything’s going to be fine.”

And it is.

It’s a while before we make it into the parade area; before the buildings give way to people as far as the eye can see. We follow the first corner into the length of the parade zone.

At first no one seems to know who we are. There are a few glances and a confused arm arching toward the car. There’s a camera or two that are getting footage of us, and…

There, in the crowd.

A woman in a rainbow tutu.

Her eyes meet mine with something like recognition. Is that… Yoshino? From high school? At first she’s confused, but as she looks from me to Noctis, and then back to me – gaze lingering on my flag – something seems to click in her gaze. And she’s got this  _ smile _ . I sat behind her for half a year, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile quite like this.

She’s off, racing down the parade, and I can barely make out the shout, “Prince Noctis is in the parade!”

A block later, we’re met with screams. Flags are flailing out at us, and phones are pointed from every direction, capturing the moment.

A pair of rainbow boxers flies at the car.

Gladio catches it without missing a beat. Then, after checking them, throws them at Noctis’ face.

Despite the massive flush from his cheeks to his throat, Noctis thanks the man in the crowd who threw them. “Can I keep these?” he shouts.

“Remember me always!” the man teases with a wink.

In reply, Noctis gives the most graceful bow I have ever seen him give.

This, apparently, was not what the stranger was expecting, face going slack as a blush overtook his cheeks. We pass him before long and Noctis…

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.

…

We’re parked a few blocks away from the parade area – still riding high on adrenaline – lining up for pizza at this small take-out place when Ignis shoves Noctis further up the line.

“What’s wrong, babe,” I ask, turning out to face the street and  _ what the shit, those are reporters _ .

I mean, they kept mentioning paparazzi during training, but  _ whoa _ . I didn't expect to need the training until after his coronation. The kids at school barely knew what he looked like. It’s always been a constant state of anonymity.

Until… now, I guess.

Cameras go off. Around us, people start to shy away.

“Prince Noctis, how long have you known you're gay?”

The first line slings forward like an accusation. An insult. I throw myself between Noctis and the cameras that are suddenly  _ everywhere _ . How did they find us? Why do they care?

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

It’s just a story to them, isn’t it?

“Insomnia Tribune. Prince Noctis, do you intend to forfeit the throne to Duke Koto?”

“Instead of assaulting your future king like wild animals, perhaps it would be more prudent if you were to wait for a press conference.” Ignis bites this out and I’m pretty sure he’s about ready to start screaming, not that I’ve ever seen him scream before… drunk and covered in paint aside.

Oh, Gods. A press conference. We’re going to have to hold a press conference.

The reporters don’t show any sign of losing steam, and I have to stop myself from flinching when Gladio taps my shoulder and whispers into my ear.

“We’re going to shoulder through,” he says. “Triangle formation. Jane’s already gotten to the car.”

I can only nod along, and then Gladio’s pushing on my arm and I begin to step forward into the reporters. They don’t move at first. But as I push the first person aside – nearly lifting them off the pavement – they scatter quickly as we make our way to the car. The top is already down, and the windows up. Once we’re inside, Jane pulls away from the curb, leaving the reporters back at the restaurant.

…

We hear the crowd before we see them. The chants and the stomp of feet and the occasional mindless scream reaches into the car like searching fingers. I keep my eyes on the floor, but I don’t cover my ears.

I can hear every word.

“With every step in progress there is a backlash double in measure.” Ignis’ words feel like a curse.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jane scoffs up front. “How are we supposed to get home?”

“A police escort, probably,” Gladio replies softly.

…

Noctis has to flash copies of our new contracts with his phone before we're allowed in the castle.

…

Police arrive before too long, loading us into separate cars before taking us home.

Officer Senkouji – so says his badge – is quiet for the first half of the ride. He’s a bigger guy, like me. Built strong, with large biceps that intimidate me even from the front seat. But when he speaks he has a soft voice; soothing and sweet. “So, Ignis came out for you, huh?”

Okay,  _ what? _ “What are you talking about?” I ask, leaning forward carefully in my seat.

“I’m Akira,” he adds, like that’s supposed to mean something.

Which it…

Fuck.

What.

What the fuck.

We stop at a red light, and he smiles through the bars at me. “He’s a good guy. A bit cautious, honestly. Granted, that’s how he’s managed to keep his job so long. I was always trying to convince him to tell the King. Worst case scenario he’d lose his position and end up my kept man. He came out for you, though. Glad he found someone he’d risk that for.”

“You’re giving me way too much credit,” I deny.

“Oh really?”

“It was Noctis.” Easing back in the seat, my eyes shift out the window as the light turns green and we take off again. “Noctis got a lawyer to draft us contracts employing us as an entity separate from the Crown.”

“Funny,” Akira replies dryly. “Aren’t you the  _ Crowns _ guard?”

I’m pretty sure he sees my shrug in the rear-view mirror, because he laughs.

“It’s nice to meet you,  _ Little Faun _ . Say hi to Nessie for me.”

Um… What? “Nessie?”

He blinks, like he wasn’t expecting the question. “Ignis,” he explains softly. “Like how he calls everyone animals, so I made him a mythical creature. What’s your nickname for him?”

“Darling.” The word is out before I know what I’m saying. And wow, I sound so  _ squeaky _ . Seriously? What the hell? This is when I should be  _ cool _ . I’m meeting the ex! I need to be cool!

But Akira just nods and shakes his head. “Sounds like you appreciate how serious he can be.”

Okay, uh… How does someone come to that conclusion from a half squeaked word?

“We’re here,” he says. And we are.

Guess I’ll have to find out later.

The apartment complex I share with my parents seems to loom higher than ever before as I step out of the car, and as I hoist my bag onto my shoulder I make sure the bisexual flag isn’t poking out of it. I don’t want to go inside. But I have to.

I should have just gone with Ignis in his car. Maybe I should ask him if I can move in. It’s been three years, now. It’s about time, maybe.

New art lines the lobby, and maybe it’s been too long  since I came back home. There’s even a different playlist for the elevator. How long has it been since I saw my mom? Since I caught my dad making a sandwich? It’s hard to recall, but as I open the front door I don’t have to.

Mom is right here.

She smiles up at me from the table, then rises to her feet. “You weren’t going to tell us, were you?”

My stomach drops like a stone.  _ I thought you already knew _ . I don’t say it aloud. I can’t. I can’t, I just… “Mom, I…”

As the silence stretches, her eyes turn to the hand she has clasped at the back of the chair, expression grim. “I’m sorry that we… made a situation where you didn’t feel you could tell us.”

I never even thought of telling them and I feel like shit.

Now she’s looking back at me, lips turned up in this bright smile that I haven’t seen in forever. “Your father is proud, and he also sends his apologies.”

“Dad knows?” Dad approves?

“We met for coffee since we had a moment.” Her eyes pinch a little at this, smile growing a touch bigger. Gods, they’re still silly in love with each other, aren’t they? “They had it playing on TV at the café. You looked very nice. The bisexual flag really brings out your eyes.”

We both jump as her phone goes off.

Reaching into her purse, she glances at the screen with a sigh before silencing the alarm. “Look at me,” she murmurs softly, “I’m late for a meeting.” Dropping her phone back in her bag, she slid it carefully back up her shoulder before turning to me with a note of finality. “Leftovers are in the fridge. Say hello to Noctis for us. See if you can get your boyfriend over for dinner; your father and I will see about taking some time off.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around my stomach.

Her shoulders barely come up to my chest; frail and tiny. I feel so…

“I love you, Prompto.”

Happy.

…

**Noctis: Interview with Teen Meteor**

Noctis tries not to laugh when he walks in for a formal interview and ends up on a paper mache Insomnian Throne. It was honestly such a pleasant surprise. But as he shifts to get comfortable in the chair, taking the occasional selfie and sending it to Prompto, he freezes as a splash of blonde slips through his peripherals.

A Goddess.

A hallucination.

“Luna,” he whispers. Climbing out of his chair, Noctis clears his throat as the woman approaches. “Luna, hey.”

“Thank you for meeting me here today,” she begins softly, extending a hand.

It’s everything Noctis can do not to fall to pieces when her fingers touch his. “Thank you for inviting me,” he fires back earnestly.

She motions to the throne, and he tries not to laugh too hard when he takes the seat. She falls into her own chair, the fabric back squeaking lightly as she settles into place. Flipping on the camera at her side, she turns to Noctis with a wide grin. “Let’s start out light, shall we?” she began sweetly. “Readers want to know: What’s it like being the Crown Prince of Insomnia? Is it a lot of pressure?”

“ _ That’s light? _ ”

“For them, yes.”

Noctis snorts. “That goes without saying.”

She laughs. “Is your schedule very busy? Or do you consider yourself rather free with your time?”

“Mostly busy these days,” he admits. “The older I get, the more paperwork I get. Some days I don’t even leave my office. I’m thinking of getting a couch. Luckily my best friend is in my guard detail, so it’s not too boring.”

“Your best friend?”

“Yeah. Guy went from gaming with me on the weekends and giving me piggybacks to my apartment to lifting me with one arm. It’s great.” Drunken piggybacks, but otherwise correct.

“That sounds quite nice.”

“It is.”

Shifting in her seat, Luna finally turns to the sheet of paper in her hands. “Now, let’s get to the real reason you’re here today. A few hours ago you participated in the Insomnia Pride Parade. How long have you been aware of the Queer Community to this degree?”

A slow blink was the reply, at first. But as Noctis collects himself he leans back in the chair, brushing a finger against his chin in thought. “Wow. What a question. Um… Eight years? At least that long. My best friend came out to me when we were fourteen, and I learned from there.”

“What’s your stance on marriage equality?”

“It needs to happen,” he replies strongly. “It needs to happen before anyone else gets disenfranchised to their family, friends, or coworkers. The line needs to be clear to protect them.”

“So you have a new plan once you take the throne?”

Noctis flinches. “Could…” He clears his throat, leaning forward. “Could we not go this direction? Or publish that? I can’t have negative press against my dad.”

Blonde hair bobs as Luna nods firmly. “Of course. My apologies.”

“Thanks.” He leans back in his chair.

Glancing back down the list, Luna bites her lip as she scans the questions, then turns the page. Then, looking Noctis dead in the eye, she asks, “What do you think is the most important step for the Queer Community to take at the moment?”

Noctis shakes his head. “I’m not the person to ask. Now, if you were to ask someone in a leadership position within the community with experience leading rallies, they’d probably have something appropriate to contribute. For now, I’m going to just repeat what I heard a lot of people saying at the parade – that the selective exclusion of the Trans and Asexual community needs to stop. It’s just gatekeeping, and a lot of the help Trans and Ace people need can only be found in Queer spaces. The community is here to help, and we shouldn’t deny them that. Why encourage gatekeeping in a community all about enabling each other to open those gates?”

Slowly, Luna blinks. Then, as if finding herself in a thought, she glances back down at the piece of paper and manages to stutter out an almost surprised sounding, “Do you feel safe publicly identifying anywhere on the spectrum? And if you do, where?”

A shrug. “If it happens, it happens. So far I like women. Someday that might change. Or it might not. I can only hope I’ll be ready for it.”

Flush high on her cheeks, Luna finally looks him in the eye and asks, “What were your intentions on attending the parade?”

Lips purse at this. A sigh is blown. Then, easing his elbows onto his knees, Noctis’ eyes fixed on the floor as he answers, “I figure the sooner I make my stance clear on this matter, the more time people will have to adjust to it. The more time they have, the more delayed and violent the backlash will be on the community by the time laws and policies start changing. I plan to make it the first thing I do when I take the throne.”

“And what would be the second?”

Noctis laughs. “I don’t know. Unify the currency? I mean, the switch from Yen to Gil in the city to the outlying towns is crazy. It messes with trade and travel. Either we need a new system or we need a better way to merge them.”

She nods along. Then, flipping to the final page, she smiles. “Last question. In the interest of keeping a teen magazine a teen magazine, and because readers want to know – Prince Noctis, are you single?”

He purses his lips before firing back, “Are you?”

“What?”

“Single.”

Luna laughs. “Yes, I am.”

“Would you mind maybe getting a bite to eat after this? No pressure. There's- Don't feel obligated to say yes. I mean, it’s kind of creepy that I’m asking you in a situation where we’re both filmed, but I’m also never going to be this smooth again in my entire life.”

She thinks, then replies, “Depends on what you want to eat.”

“I’m up for whatever you’re up for.”

Then she laughs. It’s a nervous thing. “Okay.”

“Cool. Then… you can put that I’ve got my eyes on someone.”

“Can you say that for the camera, please?”

Noctis laughs. “Right. Video.” Then easing back in his chair, he answers again, “I’m single, but I’ve got my eyes on someone.”

Luna laughs, then turns off the camera. Rising to her feet, she ejects the memory card. “It’s good to see you again, Noctis.”

“Yeah,” he agrees warmly, rising from the chair. “It’s great to see you again, too, Luna.”


	8. Queerleader | Forever, Maybe

The room feels big, the air smells sweet, my body feels light, and Noctis looks like he's about to pass out. I've only been in the training room for about ten seconds and already I'm concerned.

“You alright, man?” I ask, racing up to his side. My hands clap against his shoulders as I push him back to get a good look. “You're looking pretty pale.” I glance around, nervous. Have any of the other guys been giving him trouble?

But then Noctis puts a hand on his chest and says, “Dude, I’m  _ great _ .”

Turning back to him, I try not to sound  _ too _ sarcastic as I ask, “Then why do you look ready to throw up?”

“He’s in shock.” Gladio cut in. Shirtless. Again. Why so much shirtlessness?

“Um… Why?” I ask. “What happened?”

“He’s been working out nonstop since his dad talked to him this morning about the Parade.”

Oh shit.

_ Oh _ shit.

This was also something I had not considered.

“How’d he react?” I should already know how he reacted, looking at Noctis’ face. What’s going to happen? His father wouldn’t deny him the throne over something like this, would he?

“It was…” He takes a long breath, and dude, I’m about to start  _ vibrating _ . Put me out of my misery! “It was great.”

Okay, what now?

“You know how when I asked dad why he hadn’t legalized gay marriage a few years ago he told me the people weren’t ready? That it would take time and countless policies to push it through politically, but he could never make it a priority enough to warrant the advertising, press conferences, and time it would take away from his other duties?”

“Uh, yeah?” Gods, I want to throw up.

“He told me to stick with it.”

“... What?”

“He told me that it’s obviously far more important to me than it is to him, and that he’s already seen me handle the situation far better than he could have. He… He’s encouraging me to take ‘small steps’ before my coronation, just like what we did at Pride. Parties. Events. I’ve even been given a  _ budget _ . I’m not an elected official so I don’t have to worry about anything but  _ assassinations _ , and aside from that I can just… do whatever I want. He’s, uh… He’s relieved I’m straight because straight people might listen to me more and there might be less backlash than if I need a surrogate of some kind.”

Not what I expected.

“He said if I was trans it would be a good idea to come out before my coronation because of the sheer amount of paperwork that would entail, and so that we can get my sperm stored in advance before the estrogen kicks in.”

What did I just hear?

“Last year he told me Insomnia wasn’t ready for the Queer community, and this morning he told me to prove him wrong.”

Hands flying into my hair, I try not to scream. “Are you shitting me?”

Shaking his head firmly, Noctis looks up, meets my eyes for the first time since I walked in, and says with absolute conviction, “I am so far from shitting you right now.”

I wanna scream. I wanna shout. I wanna jump up and down and throw stupid confetti everywhere and so I just settle for  _ hugging him _ .

He beats at my back, gasping, “Dude-  _ Dude, _ you’re  _ crushing me _ .”

…

When I get out of group training, I find my phone in my locker, blown up with messages from Jane.

_ I think I need help. _

_ Please reply to this as soon as you can. _

_ My parents saw me in the parade because they showed it on TV near the café at my dad’s work. They’re going ballistic. _

_ Is it possible to ask for a royal favor for a restraining order or something? Or maybe a job far away from here? _

_ I don’t think I can leave my room. Call me soon, please. _

Shit.

Noctis is giving me a weird look. I’m not even- Did I just dial Ignis?

_ “Prompto, hello.” _

“Iggy, I need your help.”

…

It’s nearly half an hour before we manage to leave. Ignis rushes some paperwork I didn’t know could be rushed, and Gladio sits outside a bathroom stall in the women’s room, waiting for the judge to slide the signed papers under the door.

…

I’m admittedly a nervous wreck right now. We’re only a few blocks from Jane’s place, and everything just seems so… normal. There are no police sirens, or people freaking out. It’s been almost an hour since we left Insomnia – Galdin isn’t exactly close – but we couldn’t send Cidney into this. He might only make matters worse.

The air is hot and moist when we step out of the car, and sand crunches beneath our feet, caught between the road and the sidewalk. A few neighbors give us strange looks as we step up to the house – which I don’t blame them, seeing as we’re still in our fatigues – and I pull out my phone.

After half a ring, she answers.

_ “Hey.” _

“Hey,” I say. “We’re right outside.”

_ “Really?” _

“Yeah. Come on out.”

_ “I’ll be right down.” _

The call ends.

We wait.

On the other side of the door comes a shout. I can’t make it out. Gods, I’m scared. What if something goes wrong?

The door is open.

It flies open, to be exact. Jane is there, her mother’s hand in her hair, dragging her away and Gladio is  _ there _ , pulling them apart bodily until Jane’s mother is staring at him in utter and complete shock.

“Who are you?” she snaps. “Get out of my house!”

I move to step forward, but Noctis is pushing me aside, hand on my chest. He steps into the room with something I’d like to call grace. Poise. Majesty. As he faces Mrs. Monks down – sweaty from training, hands in firm firsts, shoulders square, head high – I think I’m starting to realize who he is. Who he’s becoming.

This man will be the King of Insomnia one day.

Mrs. Monks quiets. Stills.

Gladio turns to Jane – makeup a mess, wearing this cute little sundress – and motions to the suitcases at her feet. “These yours?”

Her nod is firmer than she probably feels right now. Firmer than I feel right now.

Without even the smallest of grunts, Gladio lifts both suitcases onto his shoulders before striding out of the house.

Ignis shuffles around me, stepping into the room with a wide stride and holding out a single piece of paper for Jane’s mother to take.

She freezes as her eyes lay upon the page. I wonder what it says. Going by her pale face, I know it isn’t good. Knowing Ignis, it’s entirely legal. Is she going to get arrested? I don’t know. This is a new side to him that I haven’t seen yet. We did need a Judge’s signature, though, so it can’t be good.

Turning on his heel, Ignis walks right out of the room.

For lack of anything better to do, I hold my hand out to Jane. She takes it quickly. We move toward the door, but as we’re about to head outside I glance back as the words, “Have a pleasant evening,” hang through the air.

That smile he’s giving her right now? Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m going to have nightmares.

Gladio’s already got everything in the trunk and Ignis has got the engine running by the time we all pile into the seats. Jane buries her face in her hands as we start off down the road.

“Ignis?” she calls softly.

“Yes, Jane?” he replies politely.

“What did you hand her?”

“A court order for reckless endangerment.”

The ride home is a bit of an  _ experience  _ after that. Noctis plays some heavy metal, and Gladio puts his arm around Jane as she half laughs, half cries into her knees. No one really says anything for the entire hour it takes to get to Insomnia.

…

Gladio’s living room is large, and filled mostly with workout equipment, books, and a really, really large couch. There’s a giant sword hanging above the TV. It’s polished to perfection, like the rest of this place. The floor is spotless. You could eat off it if you wanted. No cutlery. No dishes. Just slap a lasagna on the hardwood and bend over.

At some point someone puts a movie on. Beauty and the Beast. The new French one. Why does Gladio have that just sitting around? Answer? He bought it.

“Beast is seriously hotter than his human counterpart,” Jane says at some point, munching on popcorn.

“Seriously,” I find myself agreeing, leaning forward eagerly.

An arm slips around my shoulder, and Ignis stage whispers, “Is the Beast hotter than me?”

I turn and plant a kiss on his cheek. “No, darling. The Beast is not hotter than you.”

“You guys are so gooey. It’s so cute,” Jane coos, leaning back in her seat to stare at us openly.

Ignis presses his lips firmly to my throat. Is it getting hot in here? Yes, it is. Fuck.

“Don’t encourage them,” Gladio snorts.

It’s near the end of the movie that I hear Jane talk again. “Thanks for letting me stay with you, Gladiolus.”

“Call me Gladio. If Prompto vouches for you, you’re okay in my book.”

...

We’re barely through the front door when Ignis drops to his knees and starts mouthing at my zipper.

“We should really go to bed,” I argue softly. “It’s late.”

“Are you tired?” Ignis whines, knees sliding wide against the hardwood. His nose rubs into the fabric of my fatigues, breath warming my pants. “I’m so goddamn  _ horny _ right now. I was hoping to surprise you tonight. I still have some roses in the refrigerator that I was planning to scatter over the bed. And then you had to be absolutely adorable during that film. I’ve had this erection for an  _ hour _ .”

Rose petals and an  _ hour _ , Gods. He’s in the mood, alright. What am I missing right now?  _ Gods _ . “Yeah, I’m tired,” I admit sadly. “Want me to pick out a toy for you?”

He nods desperately against my pants, and it takes everything in me to walk away. I can hear him standing behind me. Hear him rushing to the bathroom – no doubt to take a shit. Better take full advantage of that.

Our toy collection is still rather small, all considered. I choose one of the plain dildos with a suction cup at the base. Anything with a vibrator might get him screaming. It’s too late at night for that, and I need to sleep.

Ignis is out of the bathroom a few minutes later, and I hand him the dildo and lube tiredly. “Here,” I say. “You can do it on the bed if you want.”

“Can I suck you off?” His voice cracks, like he thinks he’s pushing the topic too much. “I just… I want to be close to you tonight.”

I shrug, stepping back through the bedroom. “I mean, I might fall asleep?” I begin, folding down the covers before reaching for the hem of my shirt. “I don’t think I can get hard tonight. But yeah, you can suck me off.”

Ignis seems to deflate a bit at this, and his shoulders go slack.

How long have they been stiff?

I motion for him to step forward, opening my arms wide. “Come here.” He’s in my arms in an instant. The dildo is cold against my back, as is the lube, and it’s all I can do not to squeeze him.  “What are you so worried about, today?”

“What if the rest of the Crownsguard reacts the way Jane’s parents did?”

Oh, wow, that’s nightmare fuel right there. “We trained with a bunch of them today,” I tell him softly, stroking my hand down the length of his spine. I feel each bump and dip like they’re old friends, fingers dragging until they settle on his hips. “A lot of them congratulated us. It was cool.”

“Was it?”

I pull back, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. He looks so lost right now. Like he’s somewhere between accepting what I’ve said and is getting cornered by disbelief. Hands moving to his arms, I step out of the embrace and slowly run my hands up to his back shoulders. “How about we get you off for now and worry about this in the morning?”

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“You’re  _ fine _ ,” I tell him softly. “I’m just sleepy, okay?” I grab his hands, dragging him to the side to sit on the bed. He follows easily, plopping onto the sheets as his arms fall from around me. His dick is still hard, purple head bouncing against the mattress before stilling beside his leg.

The dildo is suctioned to the footboard. Ignis turns back to me, lubing himself up with his fingers. I wish I could get hard right now. Gods, he’s beautiful like this. Turning away, I go to turn off the overhead light, then switch on the bedside lamp before peeling off my pants, underwear, and socks. Ignis bounces as I climb into bed, watching me carefully as he pulls his fingers out of himself.

And slowly.

Sinks.

Onto the dildo.

His mouth is ajar, arm held at an angle as he attempts to keep his lubed hand off the blanket.

I reach for the side table, grabbing a small towelette from its box before wiping his hand down.

“My thanks,” he gasps before reaching for my dick. His tongue caresses the underside before eventually easing his lips around the flaccid length. As he eases back against the footboard, his lips pull away for a moment before he’s back, nursing at the tip. His jaw is stretched wide; arms straining to keep him balanced as his legs clench strictly together against the length of the toy inside him. Cheeks fluttering, he gives me another suck before rocking back. “I love you,” he murmurs against the skin of my thigh as he slides down.

I can feel my eyes begin to droop, but I just want to keep watching him. I want to watch this beautiful man slip his mouth over my legs and shudder as he eases away. As his muscles clench and twitch. As his skin flutters beneath my hand as it falls to his cheek. My thumb traces the line of his jaw before my fingers sink into his hair. “I love you so much,” I whisper, and I was to say that over and over again. I want to say it until I’m old. Until those little laugh lines I can already see forming in his cheeks are deep and weathered; until his hair is entirely gray or even falling out.

Gods, I want to be with him forever.

**Noctis: Earlier, In His Father’s Chambers**

Noctis shifts nervously, glancing up and down the hallway as he stands before a wide, heavy door. A cold shiver works slowly up his spine as he reaches for the knob, turning it carefully with a cautious knock, waiting for the inevitable, “Come in,” before pushing into the room.

Ensconced in an overstuffed chair, Regis glances up to meet his son’s eyes as he strides cautiously into his room. “Ah, Noctis. Good morning.”

“You wanted to see me, father?”

“Yes, come in.”

Hands clenched, Noctis steps into the room with an attempt at nonchalance. It fails.

“Take a seat,” Regis tells him, setting his book aside and easing back in his chair.

The couch is too soft for Noctis’ taste. It’s always been too soft for his taste. But he sits anyways, sinking into the cushions until he feels like only his shaking hand is visible.

“About the Pride parade,” he begins warmly. “I wish you’d been a bit more flamboyant with your float.”

Blue eyes blink.

“Some streamers would have been nice,” he continues, like he hasn’t just blown Noctis’ brain to pieces. “A little confetti. Tutus.”

“Tutus?”

“Yes. Tulle tutus with your respective flags.” It’s like it’s common knowledge, the way he’s saying it. “Next year, I must  _ insist _ on a T-shirt cannon. Fire some pillows out at the crowd, if you can. We’ll assign you a budget. You’re going to have to hold some events – off Royal property, of course. Wouldn’t want the magazines drawing conclusions. If we want to do this right, we’re going to have to keep it quiet that I’m helping you. The last thing we need is some sketchy newspaper running a headline that I’m using you to further my own political agenda. The more we frame this to be a disagreement based on generational gaps, the better.”

Noctis’ mouth drops open and he gapes.

“In the meantime, we’re going to have to focus on small steps. Parties with shell companies as sponsors. I must insist that you keep a lady on your arm at these sorts of events, unless you’re not straight. The people are less to rebel if you don’t require a surrogate to create an heir. If we manage to turn this into a ‘fad,’ the more…  _ rigid _ factions of society might think less of it, the less we’ll have to worry about assassinations.”

The gaping mouth slowly closes.

Regis grins. “I’m glad you care about this so much, son.”

“You… are?”

“Of course,” he replies. His voice is gentle. Sweet. “For a long time I was wondering if you would find your cause. For me, it was the wall. Keeping the daemons out of Insomnia was my number one priority. And it worked. I was able to focus on it for most of my reign. And now that my time on the throne is coming to an end in a few short years, it’s good to know I’ll be succeeded by a man who cares deeply for groups of people he doesn’t belong to.

“I want you to keep up with this cause as much as you can bear. More than you can bear, sometimes. A few years ago… I think I told you that Insomnia wasn’t ready for Queer people to get equal rights.” His lips purse at this. Regret flashes across his eyes. “If you can, I’d like you to prove me wrong.”

Voice cracking, Noctis’ leans forward on the couch and manages a shaky, “Thanks, dad.”

Motioning to the door, Regis smiles. “That was as much time as I have this morning, unfortunately,” he says, the grin scrunching his eyes. “We should see about taking a meal together, soon. Just the two of us.”

“I’d like that,” is the soft reply. A warmth settles low in his stomach as he looks upon his father, then rises to his feet and heads to the door.

“And son?”

Noctis turns, hand still on the reinforced wood. “Yes?”

“If you’re trans, it’ll be less difficult if you start your transition as soon as possible. There’s no existing paperwork for a sex change from a King to a Queen, and any name changes will render a lot of your swearing-in as useless. Unless you want to resign each and every piece of legislation you pass before that point, it’s good to figure out what you want sooner than later. We’ll also need to save your sperm. I love you. Have a good training session with the boys.”


	9. Come One, Come All | The List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good chunk of this chapter is just crack. I am so far from joking.

So Ignis is really fucking horny today and the way I know that is because I just stepped out of the shower and he literally left the stove to pull me against him. Already his hands are practically up my ass. “You’re horny.” Hey, I call it like it is. Call me Captain Obvious. Crownsguard Obvious. Gods, I hope that nickname doesn’t catch on.

“ _You’re_ horny,” he fires back.

“Oh?” I tease. “And how do you figure that?”

His fingers dip beneath the hem at the base of my spine, and as his fingers slide against the bare skin of my ass he replies with a sultry whisper, “Because you’re wearing spanky pants.”

“Ah, ah! Just because I’m wearing spanky pants doesn’t mean I’m horny,” I deny quickly. “They’re mutually exclusive events.”

“They’re hardly mutually exclusive when you know what they _do_ to me.” This comes out like a half groan as his fingers grip tightly to my ass.

I slip my hands in the back of his pajama pants, grabbing his in return. “I do,” I admit before lifting him bodily against me and pushing him up against the nearest wall. I can _feel_ the shiver that races up him at the contact.

Legs wrapping around my waist, Ignis arches against me, neck lolling to the side.

Pinning him with my hips, I reach slowly down to tease at his… wet… hole. “You’re already cleaned out and lubed,” I marvel softly.

His words are a gasp at best. A heady, “I saw you grab the spanky pants. Figured I’d save us both some time.”

Oh shit. “Do you have anything scheduled for today?”

“Just the camping trip,” he reminds me, chuckling. “Nothing until three.”

“Just checking.” And with that I smoothly – honestly, it’s kind of graceful, I’m impressed with myself – step away from the wall, lift him off of me, spin him around, and push him against the wall. I watch as his hands grapple at the plaster, fingernails attempting to spare us another hasty patch job on the paint. Grabbing at the tops of his pajamas, I pull them down over his ass before carefully reaching for the hem of my spanky pants.

He shudders as I push in, and even after all this time it’s a tight fit, his body struggling to accept me. Fluttering with each push forward, his stomach is clenched with the effort of holding himself up. And we can’t have that. He’ll tense up!

One of my arms slips beneath this chest, propping him up even as my other hand holds onto his hip with a near bruising force. It’s still a shock to me – that he _likes_ this, that he _craves_ it sometimes, the roughness – but it’s easier to swallow when he begins to shake like the way he’s doing now. Not from the effort of the position, but from the erection I know must be ready to burst. I imagine it’s bobbing nearly entirely horizontal right now. The head should be flushed a deep purple. Maybe it’s already leaking onto the carpet.

Sliding in is a slow thing. I can only get so far before I stop, at which point I pull out, rub back and forth a bit to move the lube around, before attempting to push back in. The last thing I want to do is hurt him. We should have used more lube.

Except he never brought the lube out.

Except he knows what he wants, and how to get it, and if he used less lube…

When I finally push all the way inside he’s a shuddering mess. I can feel that little bump inside him against the underside of my dick this way. I still remember the first time I pushed in like this. He was a mess. Started screaming. Couldn’t get away fast enough. He’d fallen to the floor and started gasping for air, oversensitized and jumpy for nearly half an hour. You can’t hit the prostate head on, after all. You have to be gentle; brush against it. Don’t just jam it indelicately like a button. So when I finally go to pull back, I lower his hips carefully, dragging against that little bump with the utmost care.

Head falling against the wall, Ignis’ throat chokes around a sob. “Gods,” he gasps. There’s a flush flooding his cheeks, spilling out into his neck and shoulders. His skin is hot beneath my hands and it’s all I can do not to push in sharply. He can hardly catch his breath as it is. His mouth is open against the wall, legs tight around my hips to accommodate the odd angle. And as I push in again, dragging his hips up against me, a line of drool leaks out from the corner of his mouth.

“You like this?” I manage to tease, carefully dragging back out. I can barely think right now. There’s a heat coiling in my stomach, and the sweet caress of his insides is almost too much like this. But as I turn to look back at his face, I’m disappointed not for the first time to find our eyes can’t meet like this.

He gasps anew before nodding awkwardly against the plaster. “Yes,” he manages weakly. “Yes.”

“Do you want to head to the bed?”

A broken groan is his answer at first, then slowly one hand comes away from the wall to – I can only assume – wrap around his dick. “No, please. I’m nearly there.”

“You were nearly there when I first entered you, which was maybe thirty seconds ago,” I argue softly. “I just… I want to look at you today, before we’re stuck on a week-long camping trip with the guys. It’s hard to do that like this.”

He pushes back against me before thinking for a moment, mouth closing, throat working as he swallows. “Fair point,” he whispers.

“Thank you.” Carefully pulling out, I lower him to the floor, trying not to bemoan the loss of his legs around my thighs. But as he walks quickly to the bedroom I can only follow like there’s this string between us. Can barely breathe as he strides down the hall. As he throws open the bedroom door. And as he climbs onto the bed and falls against the pillows, splaying himself across the blankets for me, I can feel cool affection twining through my stomach. It isn’t warm; not any more. The feeling has changed over time from a burning in my chest to a gentle soothing almost-sensation. Relief. Tenderness.

Gods, I love him.

I climb up after him, hands quickly finding his arms and lips finding an exposed length of throat before I mouth at the offered skin. As I push in again – carefully, sweetly – he replies with a set of groans that make me want to _fuck_ into him. To move quick and sure and brutal until he’s screaming.

But he didn’t use that much lube, hasn’t asked for any, so I don’t.

He probably wants to feel me for as long as possible. To feel the ache and know I had been there.

Gods.

It’s a slow push of bodies, now. His legs have wrapped around the tops of my hips as my hands grip his shoulders. Fingers tangle in my hair as I turn my face and our mouths open to each other. My eyes are wide, taking as much in as I can. Taking in the shift of muscle beneath tanned skin; the drag of his hair against the pillowcase; the careful, practiced stutter of his chest as air whistles through his nose. It’s all I can do not to come right now, but I can hold off for a bit longer. He’s close.

Pulling one hand away from his shoulders, I reach between us, gripping his dick between our stomachs. I break from the kiss to watch his expression shift. To watch his eyes slide shut; his mouth fall open; his nostrils flare, his eyebrows furrow. My hand is wet in seconds, and as he clenches around me and I’m _there_ and it’s _beautiful_ and he’s kissing me like the only air is in my lungs.

…

It’s about an hour later that I begin to wake. Before I feel my drowsiness begin to bleed at the edges as Ignis moves above me, my dick sliding out of his ass before he wipes at me with a moist towel.

“Of course you’re hard again,” he teases.

I groan, stretching my arms above my head as he wipes at my dick carefully. “I can’t help it. I’m with you and you’re _naked_.” Gods is he beautiful, though. He’s got this arch to his spine that’s kind of feminine, and his build is lithe but well muscled, freckles standing stark against his skin, and he’s just… wow. “What time is it?”

“A little after noon,” is the low reply.

My groan is far from disguised. “Already?”

“Yes, already,” he coos softly, placing a small kiss on the head of my dick. “I’m gonna get you out of my ass and then make some lunch. Mind taking care of yourself and getting dressed?”

Drat. I was hoping for a blowjob. Oh well. “I’m pretty sure a cold shower will do the trick,” I laugh, easing off the bed. “How’s your ass?”

“A little sore. You were too gentle. I… I wanted to feel you at least for a day or two.”

I snort. “If you wanted to feel me for a day or two you could have gone heavy on the lube and I could have just fucked you into the mattress for an hour instead of going for a quick dry wallfuck.”

We laugh a bit at that before he leaves, and I grip myself like… yeah, you’ve already seen too much I’m just gonna have some Me time. See you in an hour.

…

An hour later, Ignis and I are staring Noctis and Gladio down as they stuff item after item in the back of Ignis’ car.

“I didn’t know your trunk was this big,” I marvel after a while in open awe.

“Neither had I,” Ignis admits lowly, staring in utter perplexity as Gladio manages to stuff an entire tent in lengthwise into the already full opening. It’s a miracle it doesn’t pop.

I half expect it to explode at this point, actually. I saw a few propane bottles in there.

It’s a few minutes before they finally close the trunk, and we pile into the car.

“Alright,” Noctis drawls from the back seat. “Operation, ‘The Crown Prince Is Twenty-Five And Apparently That Means Camping’ is a go.”

“It is a tradition with a long history,” Ignis reminds him from the front seat. “Since the rulers of old, on their twenty-fifth birthday the one to inherit the throne has departed the city to spend a night among the trees to see the rate of daemons for themselves… from a safe vantage point.”

“Camping,” Noctis singsongs, beating a rhythm into the back of Ignis’ seat. “Just say it, Iggy – we’re going camping!”

It is a long car ride.

Literally – it’s an hour and a half and Noctis kind of snores, now.

…

We’re at a very specific Haven a few miles out from the city, as is apparently tradition. (How they kept the paparazzi from figuring out where we are, I have no clue. Honestly. No clue.) We’ve already got half the camp settled at this point. Gladio’s pounding the tent stakes and Noctis is shuffling around trying to get the Perfect Angle for the chairs and the fire.

Oh, come on, he definitely knows that we’re going to be moving around every thirty seconds to avoid the smoke, anyways. Why bother?

Ignis is ducking into the car and… is that a scroll? “Alright, everyone,” he calls, clapping his hands twice. “When it’s safe to leave your chore, would you mind gathering round?”

Placing the little cooking setup Ignis has brought along a decent distance from the tent, I follow Noctis and Gladio to the seats as Ignis takes a spot before the fire pit.

“What’s up, Iggy?” Gladio asks.

Ignis clears his throat. “Ground rules.”

Noctis blinks. “Ground rules?”

Gladio snorts. “Oh god. I’ve heard of this.”

Okay, what now?

“Before me I hold a list of activities forbidden for this outing,” Ignis began firmly. “To start things off, no smoking, no drugs, no binge drinking-”

“Who even made this list?” Noctis interrupts sharply. “Of _course_ we’re gonna binge drink.”

“- no extra guests, cameras, nudity outside the tent, no… No twinkies.”

Gladio’s face twists with amusement.

“No leaving plastic bags around the camp…” Ignis squints at the list, almost in disbelief. “Gladio, do you remember who wrote this list?”

“Cor updated it, I think. Isn’t that twelve generations of additions in a row, now?”

“I do believe you’re right.” Then, with a shrug, Ignis sighs and continues with a dry, “Might as well read to the end, then. No…” He pauses, eyebrows drawing together. “No driving lessons. No fire dancing… It really says fire dancing. No poi-”

“Fish or sport?” Gladio interjects.

“- or poi related activities. Best to assume both, I’m guessing. No induced hallucinations or spirit quests-”

“This is one hell of a list,” Noctis laughs.

Ignis makes a face.

Slowly, Noctis begins to chant, “Read it, read it, read it.”

I join in, because Ignis’ face is fucking priceless right now.

“No blowjobs.”

Noctis falls deathly silent.

I fail to contain my laughter, slapping my knee as I hoot.

“No fellatio, dick sucking, bukkake, oral sex, pearl necklaces-”

“Aren’t those all the same thing?” Gladio drawls.

“They’re really not,” I fire back.

“No threesomes, orgies, or group sex of any kind.”

Under his breath, Noctis breathes a nervous, “Cor, what the fuck?” Pretty sure he’s imagining his dad doing all these things right now and- nope. Brain, you are not allowed to go there. Nope.

“No anal fingering, experimentation with vegetables, or penetration of any kind. No intercrural sex, dry humping, or amplexus.”

“What in the holy hell is amplexus?” Noctis gapes, looking directly at me like I would fucking know.

I don’t. I shrug. I’m bi, not a sex guru.

“Keep going, man,” Gladiolus spurs, waving his hands.

Ignis’ lips purse before he holds out the scroll. “Would you like to read, then?”

“Gladly.” Gladio stands, taking the scroll with a satisfied grin before scanning the page and continuing. “No golden showers.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth he stops abruptly, stares at the page for a disjointed second, before holding it back out for Ignis to take. “I’m out.”

“I’ll go,” I volunteer loudly, raising my hand.

Gladio snorts, hands me the scroll, and now it’s _my turn. Ha._ “No golden showers,” I resume boldly, holding the scroll like an Official Man as I stood before my Subjects, “or showers of any kind barring river water. No human centipedes. No ingestion of blood or fecal matter, or anything involving coprophilia. No, Noctis, I don’t know what that means. No mutual masturbation, handjobs, or circle jerks of any kind.”

Noctis snorts, obviously not impressed. “Who goes from human centipede to circle jerks? What kind of scale is this?” he complains loudly.

“No sounding or wet dreams-”

“How are we even supposed to control that?” he continues sharply. “And _why_ are they in the same sentence?”

“No pornographic material or contraband, including but not limited to photo, video, or audio recordings. This includes any you want to make.” I frown at this. “Guess that means Iggy won’t be sending me any dick pics while we’re here.”

Ignis looks mighty proud as Noctis and Gladio stare at him in shock.

“No dildos, vibrators, masturbation sleeves, anal beads, eggs, or other toys used for personal, mutual, or interpersonal pleasure. Under no circumstances is dry sex or barebacking to occur.”

“So what?” Noctis drawls, leaning back in his chair, eyebrows arching in amusement. “We can fuck our own shit as long as we use a condom and there are extenuating circumstances?”

“I guess?” I fire back. It’s getting really hard not to laugh. I clear my throat. “No anal oral sex, mouth to ass, facesitting, tonguing, or rimming. Absolutely no felching, and fisting is expressly banned.”

“Taking out all the fun, aren’t they?” Ignis snorts, crossing his legs. Oh, I know why he’s crossing his legs.

Sorry, man. I didn’t bring any condoms and they _did_ say no barebacking. “No hickeys or large scarring is to be visible upon reception to the palace. A limp from spanking is also not permissible.”

“Wait, wait,” Noctis interrupts. “Does that mean spanking with _reservation_ is allowed?”

Gladio nods and shrugs simultaneously. His face is also twisted into something between humor and disgust.

“No cattle prods,” I continue, clearing my throat again, “scarification, tattoos, visible piercings, or general body modification. This includes temporary measures such as – and I’m not shitting you on this – _scrotal inflation_.”

That high pitched, “What the fuck?” is definitely Noctis.

“No beastiality, inserting small animals into the rectum, or necrophilia.”

“What the fuck were my ancestors into?”

“This, apparently,” Ignis says without missing a beat.

“And finally,” I continue at last, “no mangos because Our Little Princess is allergic.”

Noctis squints at the scroll. “So, like, can I fuck a hot dog?”

Ignis blinks. “Pardon?”

“I mean,” he continues softly, “it only said vegetables. Can I shove a sausage up my ass?”

I glance over the page, then fix him with a thumbs up. “Looks like you’re covered!”

Gladio snorts. “You guys are so weird.”

“By that logic, we can cut up a pineapple and shove it up your bunghole,” Ignis adds like it’s just something you’d casually say.

“Not we,” I point out. “No group sex. It doesn’t say anything about masturbation, though, so at least we can jerk off. Speaking of which, because they specified that it’s ‘mutual,’ we can technically jerk someone off as long as they aren’t jerking us off and we use something between the hand and the dick so it isn’t a handjob. Ignis, did you bring any grapefruits?”

“Afraid not.”

“Does it say anything about enemas?” Noctis asks. “It said no binge drinking, but enemas aren’t drinking. I could literally shove a bottle of wine up my ass, couldn’t I?”

Gladio’s trying not to die holding in his laughter, I think. His face is turning purple.

“It’s something to consider adding,” Ignis drawls. “Honestly, this list should properly cover the bases. It’s hard to believe any of your ancestors haven’t attempted to shove a bottle of wine into their rectum. Not to mention somnophilia, rape, murder, and skullfucking. Honestly, where do they draw the line?”

This is it. This is the man I’m dating.

Damn, I lucked out.

…

**Noctis and Luna: Before the Camping Trip**

“Just…” Noctis groans. “The condom is… weird. I don’t know. It kind of mutes everything? I just… I don’t know. Maybe I just have to get used to it. Or maybe we need to get a different kind. They have super-thin ones. And textured ones.”

Luna slides her hand over his, gripping it with a smile. “We’ve already seen each other’s test results,” she begins softly. “You could always just…” She bites her lip, trailing off as she slowly brought his hand to her ass.

Face burning a bright red, he gapes at her with an incredulous, “W- What?”

“Your best friend is bi. Stuff like this can’t surprise you that much,” she teases even as her cheeks brighten.

“I just…” He squeaks. “I never thought about doing… _it_ … in…” He swallows before finishing on a grand squeak. “... in the _butt_.”

She blinks. “Never?”

“Luna…” Noctis chokes, biting his lip before weakly admitting, “Thirty minutes ago I was a virgin. I guess… I mean… I still feel like I am one, to be honest.”

Pink lips purse.

Noctis’ arms drew close, pushing at the mattress nervously between his legs. “Why… Why are you looking at me like that?”

Her mouth opens, and a surprised, “You were…” hangs in the room.

“A virgin,” Noctis finishes for her gently.

She blinks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know if I was comfortable, yet.” His reply is meek at best.

She snorts. “You certainly know your way around better than a virgin.”

Jaw going slack, Noctis can barely manage a low, “Is that a compliment?”

“You can bet my ass it is.”

He blinks.

Leaning close, she places a gentle kiss against his neck. “And you’re free to collect the debt any time.”

“You make puns.”

“I do.”

“You never made puns in the letters.”

Her smile lights her face as he draws away from his neck, reclining against a pillow, allowing her hair to spill out behind her. “This is the first you’ve mentioned them. I’d started to think you’d forgotten.”

“How could I?” he replies softly. “I’ve been in love with you since we were… Since _I_ was ten.”

The smile falters, wiped away by surprise. “You didn’t…” She trails off, unsure.

He shrugs. “I didn’t what?”

“You didn’t save yourself for me, did you?”

Noctis snorts, shaking his head weakly. “Nah. I just… I don’t like people who don’t like Prompto, you know? That’s… It’s kind of limited my world a bit. I’m a stubborn guy.”

“You’re also kind,” Luna adds softly. “And he’s a good man. Your loyalty isn’t misplaced.”

Leaning back against the pillows, he nods lightly. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, he’s a great guy.”

“He loves you very much.”

“And I love him, too.”

Her smile turns bitter. “I can’t imagine a friendship like that. The Empire… When they… _occupied_ Tenebrae, I wasn’t allowed to leave the castle. All my communications were monitored. Every phone and computer was tapped and hacked. Every call was recorded. Every text was logged. The address your letters were sent to actually belongs to my old nurse, who would visit me at the castle regularly, but I was always careful in what I put in them. I had no friends. No ties to the outside world.

“After I got my degree, I… I gave up my title. I fled first to Lestallum, where I ran into a man named Vyv who was looking for photographers. I offered to write stories with them, and eventually he sent me here to Insomnia, where I started working with their street-fashion section. It’s only been a few years, but I’m still getting used to the freedom. Even… Even being with you is a little overwhelming sometimes.”

Noctis watches as her smile slowly cracks over the course of her words, then threads a hand through her hair as they slow and cease altogether. It takes him a while to process them. A few minutes pass before he bends forward and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “You are way too good for me, you know that?”

“Speak for yourself,” she whispers, tears budding in her eyes. “I feel like a mess.”

“I feel like a mess, too,” is his gentle reassurance. “I think we’re all a little bit of a mess on the inside.”


	10. Roar | Nerves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The last chapter. It's about an hour late, but I'll take what I can get. It's been a wild ride, these last three weeks. Gotta thank [Coffee](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com) for being absolutely incredible throughout this entire project; editing almost every night until late as I knocked these chapters out. This wouldn't be possible without her. Thanks also to Arnaud who, despite his best efforts to drag me back to The Mechanic, managed to add quite a few funny lines and scenes to this story. Bonus points for being with me while I initially outlined it while visiting him. His company is invaluable and keeps me sane. And finally, thanks to everyone who reviewed. You are why I post. If it weren't for your feedback, these stories would stay in my head and never see the light of day.  
> Thank you, everyone, and I hope you enjoy this last chapter of Galdin Queer.

Noctis looks incredibly regal today.

Which I guess makes sense considering he was kind of coronated about ten minutes ago. We’re kicking back in his new office –  _ his dad’s old office _ , what a trip – and Ignis is holding up tie after tie, for once entirely in his capacity of steward and not Crownsguard.

“Would a rainbow tutu be too much?” he asks as Ignis steps away, motioning for him to turn from side to side, modeling the dark orange tie in the mirror.

“This event is a bit upscale for tutu,” is Ignis’ smooth reply.

“No evening is too upscale for a rainbow tutu,” he fires back.

“No rainbows,” Jane calls from where she’s practicing osmosis with an overstuffed couch. She waves a thin stack of papers – Noctis’ speech – to motion to his ensemble before going back to the sheets with her red pen. “The audience will have a lot of Straight People, and we can’t make them feel like we’re goading them on.”

“It’s not goading, it’s gloating,” Noctis snorts. “There’s a distinct difference. Mainly that they can’t do anything about it.”

“Say that when they start throwing shoes again.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I just keep them, now.”

A brief silence follows before Jane deadpans, “You’re kidding.”

“He’s really not,” I put in. “I’ve seen him do it. ‘Either you get tried for treason or I keep your shoe.’ I remember the first time you said that. The guys’ face was priceless.”

“It’s getting rarer,” Noctis puts in sadly.

“Remember that lady who got you good with a Croc?”

“Oh, yeah. The bruise was massive. She had an impressive arm.”

“Why shoes, though?” Jane asks incredulously.

“Remember that thing everyone was quoting from him?” I remind her, trying not to laugh. “‘Stand in their shoes for a day, then fuck off.’ Yeah. They didn’t like that.”

“I was drunk,” Noctis argues weakly as Ignis fits him with what has to be the sixteenth tie.

“I thought we were stepping away from bows,” I remind him softly.

“I was going for an ironic look,” is Ignis’ honest answer. “Unfortunately, Noctis’ bone structure and coloring is better suited to rough canvas and thick cotton than fine silk. There’s only so much I can work with as long as he continues to spike his hair like this.”

“I look great,” Noctis argues dryly.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Ignis confers, leaving no doubt as his particular brand of sarcasm oozed out of each word.

Gladio, pushing the door open, announces a firm, “Ten minutes.”

Seconds later, Jane slaps the speech onto the side table with a shaky, “I’m going to fix my makeup.”

“Did you-” Noctis begins, only to be cut quickly off.

“Red is spelling mistakes. Your handwriting is horrendous. I need to fix  _ everything _ on my face.” She doesn’t. She’s wearing waterproof eyeliner and sealed everything just right. Even her mascara is perfect, despite the thick trails of tears that are racing down her face. But even if I tell her that she’ll check anyways. Who am I to know? I don’t wear makeup.

As she steps away, I lean forward in my chair and ask, not for the first time, “ _ Now _ can I read your speech?”

“No.”

“You’re a cruel man.”

“You’re going to be right there when I give it in ten minutes.”

“Eight,” Gladio corrects dryly.

As I lean back in my chair, I watch as Ignis steps forward with an older looking tie. It’s faded a bit at the edges, with metallic gold stripes on a black background. As he loops it expertly around Noctis’ neck, he takes a little extra time to straighten it before changing out the tie clip and cufflinks. Then he hesitates, hands twitching towards dark spiked hair. “May I, just a little?”

Bright eyes roll amusedly before Noctis bends forward with a dry, “If you  _ must _ .”

There’s very little that he changes. Maybe two or three spikes are touched, at best, but when he steps back the effect is subdued. Almost  _ professional _ . As Noctis steps up to the mirror, Ignis makes no attempt to move for another tie for the first time in the last half hour.

“This was dad’s,” comes the small realization.

“You look just like him.” The smile on Ignis’ face right now is bigger than I expect; a hint of pride bleeding at the edges as he looks at Noctis. Clapping his hands, he looks pointedly over at the door before announcing, “Now, we’ve got five minutes. Let’s look over that speech one last time.”

…

This is it.

This is the moment.

Almost.

I’m behind a series of heavy curtains, peering out at the crowd as, one by one, they are seated. Behind me, Noctis is making a valiant effort not to pace.

“How’s it look?” he asks.

“Pretty nice,” I tell him as a small group holding rainbow flags are admitted. “You’ve got some supporters in the crowd.”

“Supporters?”

“You’ll see when you make your speech,” I tell him, throwing out an arm as he attempts to get a look. “Not yet, Majesty.”

He snorts. “Now  _ that _ is going to take some getting used to. Hearing that from you is  _ weird _ .”

I watch as a long man is allowed into the sixth row. Isn’t it a little late for him to arrive? His shirt doesn’t crease right when he sits. Tapping my earpiece, I lean closer to the mic clipped to my lapels and murmur, “Suspicious individual, row six. Medium height, male, green shirt, dark slacks.” I watch as two Glaives along the side respond, racing down the empty second aisle before stepping through the gaps.

The man is still there when they approach, but as they ask him a question he leaps to his feet. Hands fly to his shirt. But just as he retrieves a small handgun, the Glaive are on him, pushing the barrel into the air as he fires.

Noctis jumps. “What was that?”

“Someone thought fireworks would make for good celebration, apparently.” That line is ripped wholesale from Ignis, but we can’t have Noctis freaking out during his speech. He is not his father. A Kingly Figure for the people to look up to is going to be a group effort. I’ll tell him later, when there aren’t a thousand cameras pointed right at him. When the reporters aren’t looking for any sign of weakness to jump on in the wake of a botched assassination attempt.

“Fireworks?” Noctis snorts. “Fireworks don’t echo like…” He trails off, expression darkening. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Nah. The Glaive got to him first. Bullet’s burning up in the atmosphere.”

“Good,” Noctis murmurs. “That’s… That’s good.”

Turning away from the curtain, I fix my eyes on him for a brief second. He’s back to pacing: face white as a sheet; hands twisting together; lips shaking. As I turn back to keep my eye on the audience, I ask, “Need one of your meds?”

“Yeah,” he admits softly. “Hydroxyzine, please.”

Right breast pocket for that one. I produce a small tin. The round white pills inside are difficult to grab, but I manage to corner one against the side and hand it over.

Noctis is getting scary good at swallowing those things dry.

And isn’t that the kicker? After all these years, Noctis is the one who needs the anxiety meds, not me.

It’s a few minutes before he stops pacing. A few minutes before I glance back and the shaking has stopped. Hydroxyzine works fast. Just fast enough. The last of the front row is filling with royalty and their staff. Jane waves from the end of the fourth row, huddled together with Luna.

_ “Thirty seconds to entry,” _ comes Cor’s familiar crackle in my ear.

I glance back to Noctis, standing tall for the first time since the Coronation. “Countdown’s started. I hope you don’t have to pee.”

“I do,” is his strangely confidant response. “Glad you’re here with me, Prompto.”

A laugh bursts through me. He’s such a sap. “Break a leg.”

“Isn’t that your job?” he fires back. “Breaking legs?”

“Only sometimes.” Sometimes meaning twice, but that is neither here nor there at the moment. I turn back  to the stage, listening to the countdown. And as the final,  _ “three, two, one-” _ is read through the earpiece I motion for Noctis to step forward, then out, following in his wake on his left.

Noctis makes it to the podium just as the brass band huddled in front of the stage reaches the height of the national anthem.

He’s different now. It’s hard to explain, but the moment his hand touched the podium he was different. As he stares out over the crowd I can only imagine he’s feeling overwhelmed. “These are but a few people I am tasked with caring for,” I’m pretty sure he’s thinking.

As the national anthem hits its final notes, Noctis leans into the microphone with a pleasant, “Good morning. Thank you for coming, or for watching from your televisions at home.”

For a moment I wonder if the audience can hear us because it’s just so…  _ quiet _ . There are a few flashes of cameras and one person coughs, but that’s it.

“I would like to personally thank-” a list of royalty and rich people who paid good money to get into his speech, “-as well as the Yellow Brick Road for attending.”

That sly little devil! Gods, I’m trying not to cheer right now. I hope my face isn’t too red for the camera. He’s just being  _ really not subtle _ .

“I must thank you all for coming to the public announcement of my first policy as King of Lucis, a long and important tradition. It has brought us clean water, good food, and a stronger medical field. I am honored to be able to add to this; honored to be part of this Great Royal Lineage.

“When my father was called upon to read off his plan for his reign, his response was to build a wall. A wall to circle the Crown City to keep daemons away from forty percent of the population of Lucis. Thirty years later that wall surrounds us on all sides, keeping us safe, night and day. My father has encouraged me from a young age to find a project of my own to further the safety of our people.”

He pauses, looking out at the crowd. I can’t possibly know what he’s looking at – not for sure – but for a moment I think I see him hesitate as his eyes slide over the small group waving rainbow flags. “It’s no secret that I don’t have an industrial plan in mind. It’s something different. A plan that would change rules and people in order to replace the failing systems we currently have in place. There will be long nights with lawyers. Not just for myself, but for small and large business owners. Even then, when these rules are put into place many will elect not to follow them. Adjustments will have to be made on every level. This includes, but is not limited to, structure, policy, and leadership. Hopefully the social will follow sooner rather than later.

“This great city of Insomnia is protected by a wall, but some in this city forget the wall is to keep out daemons, not other people. You cannot decide who your family is, and you certainly can’t choose your strangers. That is not our place to pick and choose who has the right to certain things, like fresh water, food, safety, and even a family. This is why, from this day forward, the Crown will enforce the protection of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex, Asexual, Agender, and any other member of the Queer community that has been ignored or silenced by policies designed to work against them.”

The crowd is incredible. It is rage. It is joy. It is a Roar I will never forget.

Shoes begin to rain down on the stage, and as I grab and escort Noctis back through the curtains I call into my mic, “Collect the shoes when they’re done!”

When we duck backstage, Noctis laughs with his whole body. “They’ve got to have planned that,” he gasps, amused. “Must have shelled out a pretty penny for those seats. They were pretty close.”

“At least a few hundred thousand Yen,” I reply weakly, attempting to catch my own breath. I just. I can’t help it.

_ Shoes _ .

“Should we invite the people waving rainbow flags to drinks?”

I shake my head. “We’d have to vet them all, first. They could be plants.”

Noctis nods with a grimace. “And that is why you’re my personal bodyguard.”

“I’m your personal bodyguard because I play videogames with you.”

“Well, you know what they say; get you a man who can do both.”

I snort at this. This guy? The King of Lucis? He’s a  _ weirdo _ . Hold onto your bonnets, Insomnia; you’ve got a Millennial at the wheel!

…

So Ignis is apparently in a weird mood because… he’s taking me to a restaurant? We never eat out. It’s a Thing. He’s got high standards (for good reasons) and he’s usually really picky about seasonings and stuff, and if he can make it he probably won’t order it. Which means we usually spend good chunks of our evenings cooking just about everything because that’s what he can cook. Everything.

Once he set crepes on fire and I thought I was going to die, it was so good.

But we’re at this snazzy place. He’s even got me in a suit and tie. I feel like a penguin. Honk. Squa. Whatever penguins say.

His hand is holding mine so tight I’m just about to lose a finger.

As the maitre d hands us off to a waiter to show us back to our table, I lean over and whisper, “Death grip can take a break.”

He jumps, and his hand unwinds. A bit. “My apologies.”

He’s so cute.

Our table is pretty deep into the restaurant – further in than Ignis usually likes. He’s usually such a fan of  _ exits _ . But we’ve got a seat near the back of the restaurant, where a wall of glass overlooks the city. It’s such a great view. We’re already getting our food – apparently it’s one of those fixed menu places. They start us with a small salad with dates and I’m kind of surprised, because Ignis knows I love dates.

Pun intended.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says just as I finish my salad. It’s been a while since a waiter passed by, and Ignis looks… jumpy. Did he arrange this? Probably.

I look up from my plate, setting my fork back against my napkin. “What’s up?”

He clears his throat. Gods, he’s nervous. “I was wondering if we could perhaps consider you moving in with me full time. Officially. In a few days my complex won’t be allowed to evict us on a morals clause, after all.”

“Yes.” It’s out of my mouth in an instant, enthusiastic and maybe a touch too loud. “Of course I’ll move in with you.”

It’s like I’ve popped a balloon as the tension quickly flies from his shoulders, and his expression is open. Warm. Relieved. Happy. “Good,” he murmurs. “That’s… I’m very relieved to know you feel the same.”

“Of course I do,” I reply softly. I slide my hand across the table, and he meets it with his.

Still, his grin is nervous.

The next course arrives.

…

When we nearly get home –  _ our home _ – he makes me put on a blindfold.

“What’s this for?” I laugh even as he’s retying it. I’m moving too much. I don’t care. This is so cute.

“Just…” He’s nervous. So nervous. “I have one more surprise for you.” His voice is shaking.

Gods, what could it be? I mean, I’ve been name dropping pygmy chocobos for years now, but his –  _ our _ – apartment doesn’t allow pets… does it? I wonder if there’s a deposit I can pay. He’s leading me through the door, now. His hand is really shaking. It’s almost alarming. What could make him so nervous? Unless…

“Stay right here,” he tells me firmly, hand slipping out of mine.

I hear the door close, then footsteps. Some clicks – a lighter? The scent of vanilla.

“Alright. You can take off the blindfold.”

For a moment I don’t. What I’m about to see can’t possibly live up to what I’ve built up in my head. But as I slowly do what I’ve been asked, I find that this is one of those moments I want to bottle and revisit over and over again.

In the center of the living room, lit only by a ring of candles, Ignis rests on one knee.

I say yes.

...

**Regis and Cid**

With the sun high in the sky, Regis – Former King of Lucis – hops out of a rusty truck, turning to face the large sign that stretched above him with apprehension peeking around the edges of his grin. The large Hammerhead shark sits above the asphalt like a beacon. And maybe it is one. Maybe he’s just been ignoring it for too long.

About thirty years too late, Regis hefts a fishing pole over his shoulder and strides up to the garage.

Beyond the doors, Cid stands above a large engine, shaking a can of high-heat spray paint, stepping around it in his observation. It’s a while before he notices the company. Before he sees the worn leather shoes he recalls from nights spent bar hopping and meeting women. And as his eyes met Regis’, Cid spits with a bitter shout, “You stole my shoes!”

Regis winces. “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember these.”

“Wouldn’t remember?” He motions sharply to the shoes in question, the paint in his hand rattling as if in warning. “You’re  _ flaunting _ them!”

A soft grin finds his lips, and for a moment he looks much younger. “How’ve you been, old friend?”

“It’s been thirty years, you little bitch.”

“I missed you, too.”

Grumbling under his breath, Cid turns back to the engine. It’s a while before he speaks. A while before he breathes a soft sigh and says with more warmth than either of them expect, “You’ve got a good boy, Regis.”

For a while, the only answer is a heavy nod. “Yes,” he admits slowly. “Far better than I ever was.”

Cid laughs.

Hefting the rod, Regis steps closer, grin tugging at his lips. “I was hoping we could go fishing, now that I don’t have any Kingly duties to attend to.”

“Oh really?” There’s a bite to his words; the bitter tone returning with a vengeance. “Not afraid spending time with old  _ Queer _ won’t ruin your reputation any more?”

Almost as slow as it had taken to form, the smile that had spread across his face fades. “I regret a lot of the things I told you that day,” he whispers, “but that is line I will never make peace with.”

What follows… is a shrug.

Hope rises in Regis’ chest at the sight. Was this…?

“There’s a good fishing hole down the hill from here,” Cid says, turning the can upside down and holding the nozzle down. After the spray goes clear, he sets it back beside the engine before stepping across the room. “You can stay the night if it gets too late. The caravan smells like old racoon piss.”

“I’d like that.”

Pushing aside a section of scrap metal, Cid asks, “Where’s your guard? Shouldn’t you still have one? Father of the King and all?”

Regis shrugs, laying the rod against his shoulder. “Gave them the slip.”

“Again?”

“What can I say?” he drawls, winking. “Old habits die hard.”

“That’s not a habit. That’s a  _ gift _ , Reggie.” Reaching into the depths of the garage’s corner, Cid pulls out a battered and rusty tackle box. “Come to mama.”

Regis laughs. “How I’ve missed you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Go [check out the art!](http://besin-is-a-moogle.tumblr.com/post/162191292104) And Happy Pride, everyone!


End file.
